


Madness

by NorthernSkies (Unfuck_yourself)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creepy house, Cryptids, Dream Sex, Jon Drinks Too Much Tea, Jon Plays Detective, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Mild Gore, Mind Reading, Paranoia, Slight Violence, Spoilers through Season 3, Statements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfuck_yourself/pseuds/NorthernSkies
Summary: In which Jon has weird dreams, Elias turns into a recluse and nothing is quite as it seems.Written for TMA Big Bang 2018Update: Now with lovely art!





	Madness

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Emmy for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own because I couldn't keep my hands off it after they were done.
> 
> Lovely (spoilery!)[ artwork](http://mirthfulmalady.tumblr.com/post/178880707900) done by [mirthfulmalady](http://mirthfulmalady.tumblr.com/)

Everything seemed to return to relative normalcy after Jon and his assistants put a stop to Nikola and her Unknowing. Jon still came to work, still fed the Beholding statements and still felt that squirming uncomfortable  _ wrongright _ feeling when doing so. At this point he had no choice; he still felt like shit whenever he went more than a week without reading a statement. 

Sometimes he could stretch it to two, but it rendered him largely non-functional and he certainly wasn’t well enough to dodge Elias when the other man decided an intervention was necessary. He would grudgingly accept the statements, be a good little archivist and read them, and then the cycle would start all over again.

It was no surprise that Martin returned to the Institute after their foray into saving the world. Jon would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little relieved. Especially because Melanie was dead and Tim had disappeared, leaving Jon with only Martin and Basira to assist him. And half the time Martin was so consumed with trying to find Tim that he was practically useless when it came to researching and following up on statements. Jon didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop looking, though. He had a sneaking suspicion that if Martin didn’t have that to focus on, he’d fall apart.

Basira was quickly getting up to speed on how things were run in the Archives. She excelled in helping Jon follow up on statements and took to the job like a duck to water. It was almost concerning how well she was doing, but at the moment Jon wasn’t going to question it, especially when Elias actually seemed pleased with how the Archives were slowly returning to their properly organized state.

And Elias was back to being Elias. There was no longer that desperate edge that colored his words and actions while Nikola was causing problems in preparation for her ritual. In fact, Elias went right back to his usual by-the-book management style, hounding Jon (well, sending Rosie and even sometimes Basira to hound him; god forbid Elias actually step foot out of his office for once) about timesheets and expense reports. Out of sheer pettiness Jon still hadn’t filled out his travel expenses for his jaunt around the world tracking Gertrude’s last movements. He hoped it caused Elias enough anxiety that he lost sleep over it.

The one thing that had changed between them, though, was that Elias shared information with him more readily than before. He still dodged quite a few of Jon’s questions, or even flat out refused to answer some of them, but with others he was surprisingly informative. Jon was starting to know what to pick his brain about and what to leave alone. There were times when Jon would visit him in his office to ask him about a puzzling aspect of a statement and it would turn into an oddly pleasant conversation.

Then again, sometimes it would devolve into a shouting match (where Jon did all the shouting) and resulted in Jon stomping out of the room and going to sulk in his office. Like the time Elias suggested Jon start looking for suitable candidates to replace Tim and Melanie. It took Jon a long time to cool off from that one, but even as mad as he was he still found it difficult to stay away.

Elias knew more about the other Powers than Jon did but Jon also knew he didn’t know  _ everything, _ as much as he liked to imply otherwise. Still, if Jon had questions brought on by reading a statement or something else, Elias more often than not had an explanation for him.  Except the one thing Elias point blank refused to answer was anything regarding the Beholding. Jon knew that straying into that territory would put an end to their conversation quickly and, as loathe as he was to admit it, there were times where he just didn’t feel like going back down to his office to continue his work. Sometimes he could redirect before Elias shut him out completely.

A good bet to keep the conversation going was to ask about the only safe topic available: the Institute. Jon was surprised to learn how much of a hand Elias had in the day-to-day operations and how much work actually went into running the place. It made sense now why Elias was already in his office when Jon arrived in the morning and was usually still there when Jon made his way home, sometimes well into the evening.

It made him wonder if Elias had anyone at home waiting for him, and if he did, how they felt about his work schedule. Jon pulled long hours only occasionally when he was with Georgie, and while she wasn’t pleased with it, she also didn’t give him a hard time about it either. But it seemed Elias spent more time at the Institute than he did at home. If he  _ did _ have anyone waiting for him at the end of the day, they certainly couldn’t be happy about that.

Jon knew he wouldn’t be. As much as he liked to be by himself it was still nice to have someone to go home to. Elias’s work/life balance leaned heavily onto the work side of things, and if  _ he _ was the one waiting for Elias to get home at the end of the day they would certainly have words about it. Probably very loud words.

He wondered if Elias was the type of person to come home and toss his jacket onto the back of the couch and sit down to have a drink or if he kept a meticulously clean house where nothing was out of place. Jon leaned toward the latter, just because he couldn’t ever remember seeing Elias’s office in anything other than perfect order. It would make sense if he carried that over to his home life.

Jon wasn’t sure he’d be able to live like that. His desk at work had made Elias’s eye twitch more than once, even causing the man to go so far as to call it a mess. His flat wasn’t any different, though there were more piles of books than paperwork and files. Sure, it  _ looked _ like a mess, but Jon knew where everything was. Martin made the mistake of coming in and tidying his office once and it took Jon the better part of half a day to track down the things he needed. He may have said some not very nice things to Martin after that, and his office was never touched again. Jon still felt vaguely guilty about the whole exchange, but it happened so long ago that an apology for it would just be awkward now.

He didn’t think Elias would get quite so angry, but that would probably be another thing they would argue over. Actually, Jon couldn’t think of a subject they  _ wouldn’t _ argue over. Even if Jon had the same viewpoint as Elias on something, he’d still find a way for them to disagree. It was habit by now. Hell, they’d probably argue in bed too.

Wait.

Jon’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. He frowned down at his empty tea mug, heat starting to crawl up his neck and onto his face. His intention was to refill his tea, how the hell did he end up standing at the counter in the breakroom staring into space and thinking about...that. He shook his head vigorously, as if that would physically dislodge the images that were starting to take shape in his mind.

_ Elias hovering over him, chest bare and eyes heavy lidded as he _ -

“Something the matter, Jon?”

Oh christ.

Jon almost knocked his mug off the counter at the sound of Elias’s voice behind him. He did his best to act natural but the way Elias looked at him when Jon finally turned around told him failed spectacularly.

“Everything’s fine,” Jon said. Or tried to say, but his throat closed up in panic halfway through and the last half of it came out as a squeak. Elias raised an eyebrow at him and Jon decided to cut his losses and run, though he had enough dignity to not  _ actually  _ run. He brushed past the other man, who was still in the doorway, and made a hasty retreat back to his office, which thankfully was as far away from Elias as he could get without leaving the building.

The woody, floral scent of Elias’s cologne lingered in Jon’s nostrils even after he’d gone home and showered for the evening. When he finally fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like hours, he was thankful he didn’t dream.

***

He dreaded going to work the next morning, though he’d seen neither hide nor hair of Elias for the entire day. In fact, when he went to make his normal lunch of tea, and only tea (Martin had been slacking on his badgering of Jon to eat), he couldn’t help but glance into Elias’s office as he passed and paused when he saw the lights were off. 

After his eyes adjusted to the darkness a little better he noticed that the coat hook, which normally held Elias’s overcoat and on some especially long days, his suit jacket, was empty. Usually if Elias was going to be gone Rosie would send out an Institute-wide email stating so, and who to go to for issues etc etc etc. Jon didn’t recall getting such an email, then again he wasn’t very good about reading them in the first place.

Jon knew there were times where Elias’s position as the head of the Institute caused him to be out of the office. They’d touched on it briefly in one of their chats. Sometimes Elias had to meet with current or potential benefactors, usually somewhere far more fancy than the Institute meeting rooms afforded. But again, Rosie usually sent a message notifying everyone Elias would be gone for the day.

Did something happen?

“Are you lost?”

Jon turned his head and saw Rosie staring at him in confusion from down the hall.

“Where’s Elias?” he asked.

“He called in sick this morning,” Rosie replied tersely, as if Jon had no right to ask that kind of question.

“That’s...odd.” Jon said it more to himself than to Rosie, as he had never known Elias to take a sick day in all the years Jon had been at the Institute. He wasn’t even sure Elias  _ could _ get sick, as Jon still questioned how human Elias actually was. In any case, for someone like Elias, who lived and breathed according to his schedule, it was definitely strange that he would suddenly take off work without prior notice.

A sudden memory hit Jon, of Tim joking that Elias probably scheduled his bathroom breaks, and he was overcome with a guilty sadness. The echo of Tim’s laughter rang in his head. He shook it off as Rosie approached him.

“Is there something you need ?” Rosie asked, her tone clipped and a little irritated. Jon figured she was stressed about rescheduling meetings or whatever else Elias had planned for today because she usually wasn’t this, for lack of a better term, rude. He didn’t envy her her job.

“No,” he answered simply, and made his way down the hall to the break room for that much-needed tea refill.

***

Jon knew Elias was back at work the next day but was too busy to actually be nosy and see the man for himself. He’d come into work to a stack of files piled high on his desk (Basira had been busy) and a lead on finding the next avatar of the Vast.

After stopping Nikola, Jon was determined to continue Gertrude’s work in stopping the others. Elias knew. Jon tried to be subtle in gathering information, but hiding things from Elias, especially concerning the other entities, was virtually impossible. So Jon gave up and started asking Elias questions directly. He avoided the Eye for now, just to have one less thing for Elias to get prickly over and shut him out. Jon had a feeling Elias would end up playing a big part in it when the time came and that was something he didn’t want to think about right now. He wasn’t sure why. He should be happy about stopping Elias, but they’d come to an uneasy truce of late and it was almost...enjoyable.

He felt guilty about that. Especially because Martin was starting to look at him the same way he looked at Elias and it made Jon’s heart clench in his chest. He wanted to tell Martin not to worry; he wanted to reassure him that he wasn’t going to turn into something like Elias. He still had a conscience, and unlike Elias and Gertrude he actually valued the lives of the people around him. But he hadn’t been able to actually  _ talk _ to Martin in any serious capacity. He was certain he was being intentionally avoided.

The only time Martin really talked to him anymore was for work, and any time Jon started to talk about something even remotely unrelated to work Martin would shut him out. Jon only blamed himself for that. Everyone had a breaking point, and unfortunately Martin was pushed past his limits and it was too late for Jon to do anything about it. They really needed to talk.

And Jon really needed to stop talking to Elias like they were friends.

***

Jon’s work kept him busy over the next few weeks, which in turn kept his mind busy and his thoughts relatively Elias-free. The only problem was that at night when he was finally able to fall asleep, he’d started dreaming about the other man. Nothing explicit, much to his relief, but odd dreams where he was overlooking a house on a rocky cove, surrounded on all sides by a misty forest with the exception of the part facing a gray and turbulent ocean.

The house had a large wooden deck that overhung the beach and on that deck was the shape of a man that Jon instinctively knew to be Elias. He wasn’t sure how, his vantage of the scene was somewhere out on the ocean looking in, but he  _ knew _ . And he was too far away to call out with any success, nevermind that everything was strangely muffled, from the sound of the wind to the crashing of the waves on shore.

At first the dream only came once or twice a week, and every time it was the exact same scene. Jon always awoke from it unsettled, and felt like he was being watched by something other than the Eye. Those days after having the dream left him tired, a bone deep fatigue that lingered well into the afternoon. He usually didn’t feel properly awake until he’d had enough tea to properly caffeinate a small army.

He thought about bringing the kettle down to his office so he didn’t have to trek up three flights of stairs to the break room but he told himself that getting up and leaving his desk and his office, especially after those nights that he had the strange dream, would do him some good.

That was when Jon noticed that Elias had taken to shutting himself in his office. He wouldn’t have given that a second thought; sometimes when he walked by Elias’s office the door would be closed due to a conference call or an in-office meeting, but every single time Jon had gone upstairs to get tea, which was at least once an hour, Elias’s door was still closed.

Jon gave it a week. Maybe Elias was doing performance reviews. The Institute had a lot of employees, and he knew that Elias preferred to handle all that himself. But a week went by, then two, and by the end of that second week Jon started to get suspicious. By the end of the third week he grew concerned. At the end of the fourth week he was determined to find out what the fuck was going on.

His first thought was that Elias had been replaced by The Stranger. He wasn’t even sure something like that would be possible for someone like Elias, as deep into the power of the Beholding as he was, but even the idea of it brought back that deep paranoia that had consumed him after the Jane Prentiss invasion all those years ago.

He had a feeling that he would know if Elias had been replaced. He wasn’t sure why, just an instinctual certainty deep in his gut. So if that wasn’t the case then what was going on? He hadn’t actually seen Elias for an entire month. While it wasn’t unusual to go a week or two without laying eyes on the other man, there was always a matter that inevitably led Jon to his office or, on rarer occasions, to cause Elias to visit the Archives.

It was possible there was a simple explanation. Maybe Elias needed some extra privacy for some things. Jon knew that he needed to re-apply for funding every year from the Institute’s benefactors, though Jon couldn’t ever remember it taking an entire month, much less causing Elias to shut himself away for the process. In fact, there wasn’t  _ any _ Institute business Jon could think of that would cause Elias to act this way.

Maybe it was a personal matter. Maybe Elias actually  _ did _ have someone in his life and they’d had an intense row and it caused Elias to shut himself away until he felt ready to deal with people again. Jon knew the feeling. He and Georgie had had some intense fights; some emotionally draining enough that Jon didn’t feel like dealing with  _ anyone _ afterward and went out of his way to avoid as much human interaction as he could and still be able to do his job.

But even if that were the case, Elias had always been good at acting like everything was fine even when it wasn’t.

_ Something  _ was going on with Elias and Jon was going to get to the bottom of it.

***

First he started lingering in the hallways during his breaks. He’d take his time passing Elias’s office door, hoping he’d catch a snippet of conversation or even catch the man leaving to go to the loo. When nothing came of that, he’d started to outright just stand and listen. He didn’t go so far as to press his ear to the door, but he’d strain as hard as he could for any kind of sound, even just a throat being cleared. Still nothing.

There were a few times that Rosie caught him, usually when she came out of her own office to go to the break room. The first time she saw him standing there she’s given him a strange look but continued on her way. The second time she’d stared at him with a frown. The third time she outright scowled at him.

After yet another failed attempt at gleaning information from the closed door, Jon made his way into the break room to make his tea and maybe have the sandwich that Basira had brought back for him yesterday for lunch that he’d completely forgotten about until this very moment when Rosie came swooping into the room with a thunderous look on her face.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed at him.

Jon just stared at her, unable to comprehend why he was the object of such intense anger. “I beg your pardon?” Surely she couldn’t be this mad at him for making  _ tea _ .

“Why have you been  _ spying _ on Elias for the last week?” When Jon opened his mouth to protest she cut him off with, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed! You’ve been coming up here wandering around like a lost puppy but  _ I know what you’re doing so stop it _ .”

Jon’s couldn’t stop his own anger from flaring and he snapped, “So what’s going on then? He’s shut himself in his office for almost six weeks.”

Rosie’s mouth opened and Jon leaned in, eager to finally hear the reason behind Elias’s strange new habit and maybe put this whole thing to rest, but there was no explanation forthcoming. Rosie’s mouth closed with a click and she glared at him. Realization dawned on Jon and he met her glare with a frown.

“You don’t actually know, do you?”

Rosie huffed but didn’t refute his claim. Jon felt triumphant at having caught her out, but her next words left an icy weight in his stomach. “He seems like his normal self in the morning. He greets me like normal, he still goes to his meetings and keeps his schedule but something just feels...off. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

Jon swallowed down the sudden dread that was rising in his throat and threatening to come out as a panicked noise. It wouldn’t do to lose his composure in front of Rosie. Maybe the Stranger really  _ had _ gotten hold of Elias. “Why are you asking  _ me _ ?” He managed to choke out.

She wrung her hands and bit her lip before she replied, “I don’t know. You two have seemed…friendly as of late. I figured he might actually talk to you about things other than work.”

Jon wasn’t sure where she got that idea from. They’d studiously talked about nothing  _ but _ work, and he wasn’t actually sure how much of the...weird stuff Rosie knew about. Jon knew next to nothing about Elias. Rosie really did know more about the man than he did.

Jon just shook his head at her and he watched her face fall. He decided, then and there, he was just going to put all of this to rest and ask Elias himself. And if he really had been replaced by one of the Stranger’s lackeys, he needed to be stopped sooner rather than later. He turned on his heel and marched out of the break room, striding determinedly toward Elias’s office, only to stop short when he saw the door open and none other than Peter Lukas standing in the shaft of light spilling out over the hallway floor.

“I wish I could help you with this Elias, but I’m afraid it’s out of my wheelhouse, so to speak.” Peter chuckled at his own pun. He turned his head slightly and pinned Jon to the spot with that oddly heavy gaze of his. Then Peter grinned at him even as he spoke to Elias. “Never stick your dick in crazy, old friend. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Yes, thank you Peter, now kindly piss off,” came Elias’s far away reply. Peter winked at Jon before retreating toward the stairs. His body shimmered oddly before disappearing completely. Jon whirled, expecting to see Rosie on his heels, but she was nowhere in sight. He had the sneaking suspicion that she really  _ didn’t _ know about all the supernatural stuff that went on behind the Institute’s doors.

The exchange was so surreal that Jon was still having a problem processing it -did Elias just tell someone to  _ piss off _ ? Did Peter  _ actually _ infer Elias slept with someone he probably shouldn’t have?- and he almost didn’t hear Elias call him into his office. Jon’s feet felt like lead as he took the last few steps to the open doorway. His determination from before had suddenly left him, leaving a heavy, low-simmering anxiety in its place. Who would he see sitting behind the heavy wooden desk? Would it be the Elias he knew or someone, some _ thing _ else? Would Peter know if he were talking to Not Elias? No one knew about Sasha except for Melanie. How did that work exactly?

He dragged his eyes up to the figure sitting behind the desk and let out a relieved exhale. It was most definitely Elias, though he looked...rough. Tired. As tired as Jon felt most days. He had circles under his eyes, almost as dark as bruises. His strong jaw was shadowed by stubble, his hair, normally swept back from his face, had a few tendrils come loose to brush against his forehead.

All the questions Jon wanted to ask jammed in his throat.  _ What the hell is going on? What have you been doing? Why am I dreaming about you? _

Okay, maybe not that last one.

But before he could get them sorted and ask them in any kind of coherent manner, Elias started asking questions of his own.

“Can you recall any statements taking place in the state of Alaska or the Yukon territory of Canada? Specifically regarding any avatars of the Hunt?” He even  _ sounded _ tired, his voice lacking its usual brusqueness.

Jon frowned at him but cast his thoughts back through the last few weeks of statements he worked on. Sometimes it still surprised him at how good his memory was regarding statements. He could remember the first statement he ever read with almost perfect clarity, and all the feelings he retained from it as well. Just one more thing that made him The Archivist. Sometimes he hated it.

“No, not that I recall, but I can ask the others if they’ve come across anything that fits that criteria. Why?” And as forthcoming as Elias had been after stopping Nikola, he didn’t actually expect an answer to his question, so he wasn’t disappointed when there wasn’t one.

“Yes, do that. And check the Archives. Between the years of 2005 and present. There  _ should _ be something there.” The last part was more of a statement for himself than for Jon.

“Elias, you know the files are still in disarray from Gertrude’s time in the Archives, I can’t promise anything-”

“Just take a look please.” It was as much a dismissal as it was a request.

“Right,” Jon muttered, though he’d be lying if he wasn’t just the least bit relieved to see Elias sound like his normal self, if only for that last sentence. When he left Elias’s office he felt a renewed determination to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with him.

At least now he had an idea of what to look for.

***

That night Jon dreamed he was standing next to Elias on the deck of the house while a cold misty rain fell around them. When he woke up he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

***

He felt marginally better when he got to the Institute. When he walked through the doors the prickling feeling on the back of his neck went away and was replaced by the familiar weighted gaze of the Eye. The fatigue brought on by the dream was still there, but it was easier to ignore it this time because he had work to do.

He told Elias the truth when he said the Archives were still as disorganized as ever. Just when Jon thought he was starting to make a dent in the chaos someone, whether it be himself, Martin, or Basira, would inevitably find a box tucked away somewhere with random statements that needed to be incorporated into what they already had shelved. Or if they were really unlucky it was a box full of random pieces of paper that looked they had been pulled out of specific statements and hidden away for reasons unbeknownst to anyone.

If Jon had to guess, it probably had something to do with the Beholding’s ritual. Gertrude left things this disorganized for a reason and it was the only explanation that made sense. The Eye thrived on knowledge and organization so Gertrude did what she could to thwart that while dealing with everything else. It was smart, really. The Archive had little to no oversight when she was head Archivist and she’d been left to her own devices for  _ decades _ .

Jon wasn’t about to undo that, no matter how much he wanted to. The thought of the Archive being organized again actually filled him with a satisfied calmness until he realized it was probably a compulsion brought on by the Eye. So instead of reincorporating the lost statements and paperwork back into the Archive he left them in their original boxes and stacked them next to his desk. He did end up giving into the itch to at least label the boxes and that was good enough for the Eye for now, because the nagging feeling went away.

Jon was peering at the labels now, to see if there was anything that fit Elias’s criteria. He could exclude one box purely by dates alone and while another box had some statements with the correct date range none of the locations matched. The third box he looked at was one of the ones that contained looseleaf papers. Those had been harder for him to label so he’d just scribbled  _ miscellaneous  _  and left the rest of the paper blank for when he could go through its contents properly.

Well, now was as good a time as ever. He carefully removed the cover and set it aside before pulling out the first sheaf of papers, noting that some smaller papers and what looked like a picture came loose and floated back down into the box. He sighed and began to read.

***

Halfway through the day Jon had to stop what he was doing and transfer his notes to a spreadsheet. There were so many random and unrelated items in the box that jotting down notes by hand was simply impossible lest he end up with as many notes as he had papers to catalogue. Sometimes he got lucky and could pair some items together, but for the most part nothing was related. There was even a receipt or two he came across that probably had some significance  _ if it had been attached to a statement _ . He didn’t throw them away of course, a part of him, under the influence of the Eye no doubt, wouldn’t let him, but he wanted to.

After finally coming up for air he became aware of two things: he was famished, and there was someone standing outside his door. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, as his door had been firmly closed to avoid distractions, but it was like he could feel the person sized displacement of air on the other side of the wood. If he concentrated hard enough he could see the silhouette of a person in his mind’s eye. He saw them raise their arm at the same time he heard a knock at the door. He blinked the image away.

“Come in,” he said, and was mildly surprised to see it was Rosie who had pushed the door open. Jon waited for her to say something, but she just stood there and stared at him, her brows furrowed as her eyes roved over him as if searching for something. Jon frowned back at her and when it seemed that she wasn’t going to say anything, he cleared his throat.

“Something I can help you with, Rosie?” he asked. Rosie physically shook herself out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice.

“I was just making sure that-” she started, then stopped. “You haven’t come up for tea all day and I knew you were here and I started to get worried that something was happening with you too and I was hoping that you weren’t turning into-” She cut herself off again after the rush of words. Jon felt strangely flattered that Rosie seemed worried about him even though he knew deep down it was actually displaced worry for Elias.

“So he hasn’t said anything to you yet then?”

At Rosie’s shake of the head Jon sighed. She was generally distraught by Elias’s newfound self-isolation. Jon decided to put her fears at ease, at least a little bit and offered, “Well, he asked me to look into some things for him. I have a feeling it’s for a personal reason so maybe once I’ve found what he’s looking for it will be a step in the right direction.”

He could tell Rosie wanted to ask him about it, but she was professional enough not to pry, and Jon wasn’t going to elaborate any more than that. Instead she just thanked him, and when she walked away Jon could see her shoulders a little straighter, her steps a little less heavy.

He wished he could share her confidence. Whatever was bothering Elias wouldn’t be resolved by a few statements. Jon felt that was only the beginning.

***

He’d come to expect the dreams every night now, so when he found himself standing on the deck of the house he wasn’t exactly surprised. There was that apprehension and that feeling he was being watched again. He tried to turn to Elias and ask him something, anything, but it was as if the mist was molasses, his body sluggish and heavy. When he opened his mouth to speak it was suddenly filled with water, sharp and cold and he began to choke, feeling the liquid slide down his throat and fill his lungs with burning fire.

He jerked awake, gasping. He felt mildly ill, as if he’d had too much to drink the night before, and he couldn’t stop shaking. He was freezing despite being buried under two blankets. It was a herculean effort to get himself out of bed and ready for work.

His only saving grace when he entered his office in the morning was that he remembered he finished cataloguing the box the day before. The downside was there was another box of similar contents that he needed to look through.

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t ask Basira or Martin to do it for him, especially because the stack of statements that he needed to record and file were starting to tilt precariously in his inbox. He wanted to keep the information between him and Elias for now. If he couldn’t find anything in the last box he would ask Basira for her help. She was good at keeping things discrete despite her penchant for gossip. Though, Jon thought guiltily, her usual gossip partner was no longer around, so he thought he really needn't worry too much about that.

He’d wandered upstairs to make himself his usual morning cup of tea, not surprised to see Elias’s door firmly shut. He took a few extra seconds to frown at it, projecting his displeasure at the piece of wood, hoping Elias could sense it from within. He probably could actually, now that Jon was thinking about it. After a few seconds he went back to his office, prepared for another slog through shopping lists and appointment reminders.

He set the tea down on his desk and flipped the lid off the next box, this one dustier than the last, and he coughed as it sent up a hazy cloud. He cleared the air in front of him with a few waves of his hand and reached down to pick up the first handful of papers. A flash of color caught his eye and he froze, staring at the photograph that was trapped underneath his thumb.

The scene was as familiar to him as his own office by now. The tall evergreen trees, pressed together so tightly you could only see a few feet into them before the darkness swallowed the light. The stormy gray ocean with its small whitecaps peaking and just beginning to fall over. The ever present mist. The log cabin with the deck jutting out over the rocky beach.

Everything was exactly the same as his dream.

Jon felt that same sensation of being watched, though it was far worse than it had been before. It didn’t compare to the way the Eye felt when it was watching him. This felt dangerous. Like he was being hunted.

Suddenly his office felt too small, the walls narrower, trapping him, making it easier for whatever it was to get him. He let out a distressed noise and shot up from his chair, rounding his desk clumsily and banging his hip on one of the sharp corners. He burst through his office door, running down the hall to take the stairs two at a time until he reached the ground floor. He continued his run out the front door, ignoring the odd looks he received from a woman sitting in the receiving room.

He hoped the fresh air and open space would make him feel better but now he just felt too exposed. He thought he heard an amused chuckle, faint, carried by the wind, and he whirled this way and that, looking for anyone -or anything- that might be paying him a little too much attention.

There were security cameras on the Institute building and he could feel their lenses focused on him, but he knew what the Beholding felt like when it watched him. People walked past and Jon eyed them suspiciously, but a majority of them were far more focused on their phones than their surroundings, and those that weren’t paid him no mind as they continued down the pavement.

If he was being watched he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Part of him wanted to retreat back inside, to not feel so exposed, but the other part of him didn’t want to be confined to a space just in case he needed to run. He had no idea what he needed to run  _ from _ , but whatever it was had triggered a fight or flight response within him.

He needed to find a safe space, somewhere he could sit and gather his thoughts and figure out what the hell was going on. He’d had the presence of mind to grab his mobile and wallet when he fled his office so it was an easy decision to head back to his flat. He sent Basira a text that he was leaving due to illness and proceeded to the nearest tube station.

He couldn’t sit still for the entire ride home, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly with a nervous energy, causing the other commuters to give him a wide berth. He probably looked like a drug addict with his wide eyed panicked expression and inability to stay still. He didn’t care. He just wanted to lock himself in his flat and do his best not to fall asleep, because he wasn’t sure what would happen if he ended up in that dream again.

***

When he got to his flat he slammed his front door closed and locked it with the deadbolt and sliding lock. Then he went around and pulled the curtains on all his windows, making sure there were no gaps that could be looked through.

His flat was small, only one bedroom and bathroom in addition to the main living space, but he still went through and flung open his closet doors -far too many for such a miniscule space- and peeked inside, parting the hanging clothes and sighing in relief when there was nothing behind them except a bare wall. He looked under his bed and behind his shower curtain, turned on every overhead light and lamp and when he was finally satisfied he was well and truly alone, he went back to the living room and sat down heavily on the couch.

The thoughts and questions in his head jostled around so much they just turned into white noise and Jon’s vision blurred as he stared at the far wall, the books on the shelves melding into a dark, amorphous blob. Now that the adrenaline rush was fading, he was completely exhausted, but the terror of what might await him if he fell asleep kept him from closing his eyes.

Who, or what, was giving him these dreams? He knew it wasn’t his subconscious. The dreams were too consistent, even for his own mind to conjure up. He vaguely remembered that some entities could affect dreams, but when he cast his thoughts back to the statements he drew a blank. He was so tired. He should make some tea, maybe start reading one of the books he’d impulsively bought that had been sitting on his bookshelf collecting dust.

He tried to get up but his body felt impossibly heavy. When had his couch become so comfortable? Each blink became slower than the last, until he closed his eyes and did not open them again. He fell asleep in his living room, tucked into the corner of his couch.

He didn’t dream.

When he awoke it was half past two. He wasn’t jerked awake by fear, or the feeling of something bearing down on him with malicious intent. His heart wasn’t pounding in his chest, he didn’t feel sick. He didn’t feel refreshed either, but it gave him hope. Maybe whatever it was that was tormenting him had its fun and decided to finally leave him alone.

He snorted. When had he ever been so lucky?

He unfolded himself from the couch, knees sore and creaking as he stretched his legs. A yawn cracked his jaw and he shook his head to clear the last remnants of sleep from his mind. A shower, then tea. He did begin to feel the telltale sign of anxiety as his hands tingled at the thought of going back to the Institute. The picture was still there on his desk -or the floor most likely- and he was afraid that looking at it too long would-

What? Magically transport him to that house again? Jon shook his head a little harder, as if to punish that thought for even existing. His life was full of ridiculous things, but magic portals weren’t one of them.

That he knew of anyway.

After his shower he did some minor tidying up. There was washing that needed to get done, but the sky was just starting to lighten so he decided to get dressed and head into work early. The walk was pleasant, not many people to dodge on his way to the station, and his ride was quiet. He didn’t want to bother unlocking the front door so he went round the back and used his keycard at the staff entrance.

He walked down the stairs with the intention of striding into his office to resume his work, but the closer he got to the door the slower his steps became until he was just standing in the hallway, cursing himself for being such a coward.  _ It’s just a picture, _ he tried to rationalize with himself, but he knew it was more than that. He also knew that if he tried to ignore it the dreams would only get worse. He needed to get to the bottom of this. The sooner he found out what was going on, the sooner he would be able to go back to sleep without worrying about being hunted. He shuddered at the thought of what would happen if he were ever caught.

He took the last few steps toward his office door, turning the knob and ignoring the apprehension building in his gut. He half expected something to jump at him from the shadows but the room was empty. Papers littered the floor from when he dropped them in his haste to flee. He saw the picture, face down on his keyboard, and swallowed before he reached for it. When his fingers touched the glossy paper he shuddered, briefly, before he noticed something.

In spidery handwriting someone had written  _ Halibut Cove, AK - 2009 _ in the bottom left corner.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to make the connection, but when he did he rushed out of his office and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. Elias’s office door was closed but Jon knew he was in there. He didn’t hesitate to turn the knob and throw the door open.

In retrospect he probably looked like a madman, bursting through the door, breathing heavily, eyes wild and the picture clutched in his hand. It would explain the startled look Elias gave him, at least.

“What do you know about this?” Jon asked in a rush, shoving the picture toward Elias as the other man sat at his desk, his startled look slowly transforming into a thunderous glare. Jon ignored it. “Look at the writing on the back,a it says-”

“ _ Thank you _ Jonathan, I know what it says, I can read,” Elias snapped, his words clipped and irritated. Jon noticed his eyes kept darting to his computer monitor then back to him and he wondered if he interrupted something actually important before he heard a chuckle and froze. It was the same sound he heard when he ran from the Institute a day ago.

Then he noticed the feeling of being watched had intensified to the point that he was sure if he turned around he would see someone standing there behind him. Except he was frozen on the spot, unable to do anything but stare at Elias with wide, frightened eyes. And Elias stared right back at him, that same fear echoed in his own gaze, though if anyone else were to look at him they would just see mild annoyance. But Jon was familiar enough with Elias now to see the depth of emotions the other man was able to convey with just his eyes.

“Seems like you’re about to become very busy. Guess we’ll have to continue this at another time.”

Jon suppressed a shudder at the sound of that voice. Male, American, with a smooth drawl that set Jon’s teeth on edge. Whoever the person was, Jon instantly disliked him.

“Yes, of course. My apologies Cameron, we’ll be in touch,” Elias said, polite and courteous as always. He even smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, the closer Jon looked, the more he realized how tense Elias was. He was sitting at the edge of his chair, his back almost painfully straight, shoulders impossibly stiff. Jon could see the tendons in his neck tighten as he spoke, felt an answering ache in his own neck and shoulders, and when Elias touched a key on his keyboard to disconnect the call the movement was oddly robotic.

Jon fully expected to face Elias’s wrath. He even braced himself for it. But what he did not expect was Elias sagging in his chair as if he were held up by strings that had suddenly been cut. The other man sighed, rubbed his face with his hand, then stared down at the picture on his desk with a frown. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet Jon had to strain to hear.

“Where did you find this?”

Jon rounded one of the chairs positioned in front of Elias’s desk and sat down heavily, hunching over himself. He rested his elbows on his knees. “There was a box of miscellaneous papers stored away in the Archives. I think Gertrude was pulling the stuff out of statements and just...tossing them in there.”

Elias snorted, though his thoughtful frown did not change. “Sounds like something she would do.” Jon watched as he smoothed the wrinkles caused by Jon’s clutching fingers out of the photograph.

“I um. I’ve been dreaming. About that house.”

Elias’s head snapped up and he looked at Jon with narrowed eyes. “For how long?”

“A-a few weeks now, maybe?” Jon wrung his hands and looked away from Elias’s penetrating gaze. He wasn’t sure what prompted the confession, but from Elias’s reaction he had a feeling the other man knew something and just wasn’t saying it. Figured. Jon shook his head, too tired to even be annoyed by it.

“Tell me about them.”

Jon looked up at Elias then, regretting it because he felt pinned to his chair by Elias’s intense stare. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Well,” he croaked out, “we’re standing on the deck of that house, there’s a cold mist everywhere and whenever I try to talk to you I feel like I’m drowning.”

Elias had directed his frown at Jon now, and Jon couldn’t help feeling like he disappointed the other man somehow. It annoyed him, that he could let Elias get to him still. “If you know something about this then  _ tell me _ ,” Jon finally snapped. He was tired. Tired of being tired, tired of Elias withholding things from him because he  _ had to learn about it on his own _ . He felt like he was drowning, though not in water but in helplessness.

“I think we need to find the statement this picture belongs to.” It sounded like an order, a dismissal, and the wave of anger that washed over Jon made him stand abruptly, fully intending to storm out of Elias’s office until Elias continued, “I will meet you down there momentarily.”

Jon blinked down at the other man from where he stood, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had risen. “W-what?”

“The search would go faster if both of us were looking,” Elias explained, as if Jon were slow. Jon frowned at him, but his irritation remained tempered by the surprise of Elias offering his assistance.

“R-right. I’ll just. Get started. On that.” Elias nodded, and Jon left his office confused and disoriented. Apprehension made his stomach unsettled, but not in a bad way. He wasn't sure what to make of that.

***

Jon sat at his desk for a minute, staring at the mess of papers scattered around it and on the floor. He supposed he should make his office presentable, since the last time Elias stopped by he'd made a snide remark about how disorganized it was.

Before he could get started, however, Elias invited himself inside without so much as a word. Jon looked up at him from his vantage point in his chair and was surprised at how...bad he looked in the yellow lights of Jon's office.

Elias's skin was sallow, his eyes sunken and so dark around the edges they looked bruised. The shadow of his stubble was much more visible. He didn't just look tired, he looked ill. Jon was tempted to say something but before he could, Elias shrugged out of his suit jacket and all Jon could do was stare.

He’d seen Elias without it on before, of course, but that was usually when the other man was holed up in his office, hunched over his desk either filling out paperwork or typing furiously. Up close he didn't realize Elias was so-

Fit, his mind supplied.

Elias's dress shirt pulled taut against muscular shoulders as they shifted, and Jon had to look away when Elias began to roll the sleeves up to secure them just below his elbows. How did bare forearms become so attractive all of a sudden?

He cleared his throat when Elias looked at him expectantly, his face growing suddenly hot. He shifted, trying to dissipate the tingle at the base of his spine.

“I um. I thought we could start with the rest of the contents of the box, there might be a statement to go with the picture?” Jon didn't know why he sounded so unsure, this was his job, or used to be his job, he didn't need Elias to validate his suggestions.

As it was, Elias just acknowledged Jon's proposal with another nod and picked up a handful of papers off his desk and began to read. Jon waited for a heartbeat before he followed suit. It was hard to concentrate, having Elias so close to him in such a small room. He became hyper aware of every time Elias shifted, of his breathing, of the rustling of paper as he moved from one document to the next. Even the way the other man smelled was distracting. Earthy with a sweeter undertone. No doubt some kind of expensive cologne.

Jon was only on his fifth document, some kind of insurance paperwork with notes scribbled all over it, when he heard Elias sigh, imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t listening for it. He looked up as Elias straightened from his lean on the desk and began to roll the sleeves of his shirt back down. He deftly buttoned the cuffs, long fingers pushing the button through the holes with ease, and then shrugged his suit jacket back on.

“I am unable to stay longer. I have a meeting to attend in ten minutes and you seem to be...distracted.”

Jon felt his face heating, resolutely looking back down at the paper in his hand, refusing to meet Elias’s eyes. “Right, well. I’ll just uh, finish up here and then maybe start to go through some of the statements to see if I can find anything there.”

“Yes, do that. Please keep me updated.” Elias left with a soft click of the door and Jon sagged in his chair, blowing out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He told himself that anyone would be a little...distracted if their boss decided to stop by and work with them side by side for a while. It was completely normal.

Still, Jon could smell Elias long after he’d left the Institute that night and found he didn’t mind all that much.

***

He readied himself for bed like he usually did, confidence bolstered by the lack of dreams the previous night. But still, he hesitated before sliding under the covers, as if doing so were the point of no return and he couldn’t just get back out of bed to go have one more cup of tea.

He wasn’t sure how long he ended up staring at the ceiling before he managed to drift off. But he should have known better because he found himself, once again, on that deck, the cold wind pushing the mist at him, wetting his face and clothes until he was soaked through and shivering.

Once again he felt that pressure on him, of something watching, waiting. Jon turned toward Elias again, like he had done every time before, but this time Elias turned as well. Jon didn’t say anything, not this time, because he didn’t want to feel the water filling his lungs and spilling out of his mouth. Elias seemed dazed, his sharp gray-green gaze dulled, but by what Jon didn’t know. That was when he noticed a bead of blood well up on the other man’s bottom lip, followed by another, then another, until it was streaming from an obvious open wound that had split it open. 

Right before his eyes Elias’s face began to transform. His nose started dripping blood, the bridge collapsing on itself and beginning to bruise. A cut opened up on his right cheekbone and started bleeding freely while the skin around it darkened to an angry purple red and his eye swelled shut. Then Jon saw movement behind him, somewhere near the hazy treeline. A hulking human shaped shadow emerged out of the mist and bore down on them.

The pressure intensified until Jon felt something wet running out of both his ears, but he didn’t feel the pain of ruptured eardrums. He was too busy trying to scream around the water rushing out of his mouth. When he realized it was a lost cause, Elias just staring at him numbly, he closed his eyes, hoping that whatever it was that finally caught them would have some mercy and kill him quickly. He felt a rush of air at his front and then-

Warmth. The sound of a crackling fire.

Jon cracked open one eye, then the other and looked around, taking in the rather cheery fire blazing away in the fireplace and the mismatched furniture draped with soft looking blankets. It was disorienting enough that he stumbled as he looked around, falling onto a well-worn wingback chair.

He looked around at the wood-paneled walls decorated with paintings, some of forests, others of various animals like moose or bears. There was one that had three wolves howling at a moon. Everything was sharp and in focus, he could even smell the wood burning in the fireplace. The sounds were clear, not muted as they had been when he was-

Outside.

This was the house. He didn’t know how he knew but now he was  _ inside _ the house that had been haunting his dreams. So then that meant the thing he saw earlier coming at him was lurking somewhere out there.

“Stop thinking about it.”

Jon jerked around at the sound of Elias’s voice and saw the man standing in front of the kitchen doorway, haloed in the soft light. Jon couldn’t see his face properly, but it looked whole and undamaged. He wanted to get up and check for himself, to touch the spots that had opened up and started bleeding, or turned purple with bruises, but he couldn’t make his body move like he wanted. His limbs were heavy, leaden, and a noise of frustration escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

_ Why couldn’t he move?! _

“I don’t know,” Elias said as he came out of the doorway, coming around the front of the chair to crouch in front of him. He was close, so close that Jon could feel the heat coming off him, warming his cold legs. A large hand came down on his knee, almost scorchingly hot and Jon just stared at it, unable to shake it off. Not sure he really wanted to.

“This is your dream, Jon. I’m sure you could move if you  _ really _ wanted to.” Elias was just echoing his thoughts now and Jon glared.

_ It’s bad enough you’re a prick in real life, the least you could do is not be one in my dreams _ .

Elias laughed at that, the sound deep and resonating. Jon could feel it in his own chest like a purr. He became aware of that sweet woody smell of the cologne Elias was so fond of and he swallowed. This was. This was far too intimate, even for a dream, but he couldn’t bring himself to change it.

He heard a thumping noise coming from outside. Jon’s eyes shot up from Elias’s face to look at the front door and the window at its center. The mist was so thick outside it looked like the glass was frosted. Jon heard the thump again and the mist whirled around the movement of something Jon couldn’t quite see. His heart began to pound in his chest, his fear rising and threatening to overtake him.

_ Oh god.  _ The thing outside was trying to get in.

Elias’s had came up to touch his cheek, to force his head back toward where Elias was in front of him. Even the heat of Elias’s had on his face didn’t penetrate the cold that was starting to creep back. Jon shivered; he could almost feel the mist and wind buffeting his body again.

“Jon, you need to concentrate on something else. If you think about what’s beyond the door we will end up back out there and I’m not sure I can bring us in here again if that happens.” Elias’s voice was low and commanding, almost soothing, but it wasn’t enough to draw Jon’s attention away from the window. He was sure he could see something moving beyond it.

He was shaking so hard now that his teeth chattered. His fingers were going numb. The howling wind got louder in his ears, the crashing waves almost deafening.  _ I can’t _ , he thought.  _ How am I supposed to think about anything else  _ but _ that? It’s  _ right there.  _ It’s going to get in here and kill me. Kill us both. What happens if you die in a dream? Do you die in real life? _

Jon gasped and came back to himself suddenly when he felt Elias’s hands slide up the inside of his thighs. He looked down at those deft fingers undoing his belt, the clinking of the metal buckle penetrating the rushing sound of wind and waves. He held his breath as Elias opened his fly and pushed his large, hot hand into his briefs, long fingers wrapping around his cock. He was already hard without even realizing it.

Elias sank down to his knees and walked forward until he was fully between Jon’s legs. He looked up only once into Jon’s face before he dropped his eyes to the now weeping erection wrapped in his hand and lowered his mouth until the head of Jon’s cock was enveloped in wet warmth.

Jon’s hips came off the chair and Elias took the movement smoothly, letting Jon’s cock slide all the way into his mouth, down his throat. His eyes closed as Elias’s throat fluttered around him, rippling in a way that didn’t seem entirely natural but this was a dream right? Not everything had to be completely real.

Elias pulled back, just far enough for Jon to slide out of his throat but not his mouth and he started to suck, his cheeks hollowing and making his cheekbones stand out sharply in the flickering light of the fire. Jon groaned and managed to unclench the fingers of one hand from the armrest of the chair and thread them into Elias’s hair, the soft strands falling over and around the digits like water. He pushed down on Elias’s head, urging him to swallow his cock again, and when he did Jon dropped his head back against the chair with a thud.

Jon couldn’t keep his hips still, despite Elias’s hands pressing down on them. He was able to thrust up minutely, fucking Elias’s throat in short, aborted thrusts. He strained against the force holding his hips down, desperate for more friction, but Elias wouldn’t let up. If this were happening for real Jon was sure he’d have hand-shaped bruises afterwards.

He could feel his orgasm building at an excruciatingly slow pace. His balls felt tight and heavy and his abdomen clenched rhythmically against the rising tingle deep in his gut. He was so close, if Elias would just  _ let him move _ -

Jon awoke with a gasp. He was hard and aching, his shorts tented under the sheets. He ran a hand over his face and groaned.

There was no way he’d be able to look Elias in the eye after this.

***

He made himself as scarce as he could when he arrived at work. He tried his best not to think of his dream, but it slowly snaked its way to the forefront of his mind and he ended up sitting in his office trying not to get hard thinking about the night before.

As real as the dream was, it was  _ just a dream _ and it didn’t mean anything. His subconscious was messing with him. He wasn’t harboring a secret attraction to his boss -that’s what he told himself at least- although Elias  _ was _ very attractive, at least physically. He still hated Elias, would always hate Elias, for everything he’d done to them and what he still continued to do. Yes he might be attractive, but he was a sociopath only out for himself and even if Jon had feeling for him and was inclined to pursue them, he knew Elias wouldn’t feel the same, probably  _ couldn’t _ feel the same. His brain just twisted their interaction from the day prior into something lewd, that was all.

He was actually able to scrub it from his mind, at least for a little while, while he perused the shelves of the Archives looking for statements relating to the photograph that was still sitting on his desk. He found a few that might fit the search parameters and pulled them, noting with annoyance that they were misfiled, no doubt thanks to Gertrude. When he sat down in his chair his head twinged, a sharp stab of pain causing him to clench his jaw.

He hadn’t had any tea this morning, he was probably going through caffeine withdrawals. His diet basically consisted of tea at this point, and by now he would have been on his fourth cup. He chewed his bottom lip, conflicted. Should he take a chance and go upstairs to make tea, possibly encountering Elias, or should he just pop some paracetamol and suffer until the end of the day?

He decided on the latter and dug around in his desk for the pills, swallowing them dry before he pulled the nearest file toward him and began to read. It didn’t last long. The throbbing in his head got worse and his stomach started to hurt, no doubt from taking the pills without food. He sighed and pushed away from his desk. Maybe he’d get lucky and someone would have started the kettle already and he could just use the leftover water. Hell, he was desperate enough to just microwave his water at this point if it meant he could get in and out quickly.

He trudged up the stairs, pausing at the landing before taking a breath and walking quickly down the hall toward the break room. It figured that today, of all days, Elias would leave his office door open. Jon resolutely kept his eyes ahead, not daring to look into the open doorway as he passed.

Unfortunately, Elias was on the phone, and as soon as Jon registered the sound of him speaking he instantly got hard and he retreated into the nearest empty office. He hung his head in his hands, willing his erection to go down but he was painfully hard in his trousers, his arousal sharp and aching in a way he hadn’t ever remembered feeling before.

Jon wasn’t a sexual person. He never had been. Sexual attraction wasn’t something in the forefront of his mind when he was looking for someone to spend time with. There were plenty of other, more meaningful ways, to connect to someone. That being said, he wasn’t a virgin either. He’d had sex before, even enjoyed it, but he didn’t need it like some people seemed to.

So he had no idea why he was reacting so strongly to Elias. Yes, he’d had that dream, but he’d had dreams like that before -a long time ago, and nothing nearly as graphic, but still- and it had never affected him as much. Even now as Jon got the faintest whiff of Elias’s cologne it nearly doubled him over as his cock throbbed painfully in the confines of his trousers.

He decided his best course of action was to retreat. He poked his head around the doorway, making sure the coast was clear before he sprinted toward the stairs. He nearly fell down the first flight in his haste to escape but managed to grab the railing, his shoulder twinging as it twisted.

When he got back to his office he shoved as many statements as he could into his bag and left, folding his coat over his arm and holding it in front of him to conceal his now, thankfully, flagging erection. When he stepped outside, the cool air on his burning face was a relief and he took a moment to stand there, willing his heart to stop beating so painfully against his rib cage.

The further he got from the Institute, the better he began to feel, and by the time he arrived home his head was clear from the fog of arousal that had settled inside it. He took a shower, resolutely  _ not _ touching himself, changed into his most comfortable pair of lounge pants and a soft shirt and settled down on his couch with a cup of tea to start sorting through statements.

He was actually impressed with how many files he was able to cram into his bag. Some of the folders were crumpled but otherwise there was no other damage to them. Jon laid them out on his coffee table by date, noting that the most common location was Anchorage. There was one outlier, a somewhat ominously named Destruction Bay in the Yukon territory of Canada. It predated the earliest statement in the pile by almost two years and Jon wasn’t sure why he grabbed it in the first place, but he decided to start his research with that one.

 

It was thin, and if it wasn’t important it wasn’t like Jon would have wasted too much time looking into it. He settled back into the couch and flipped the file open to the first page and began to read.

***

A few hours and several cups of tea later, Jon’s coffee table was a veritable mess of notes and scattered files. He ever found the statement the picture belonged to, but at this point he had a pretty good idea of what he was dealing with. Something had moved into Alaska almost a decade ago and started hunting people, and while the encounters took place in mostly the south-central part of the state, they all had one location in common.

The house in Halibut Cove.

Most of the statement givers were dead. Jon found that out when he typed their names into a search engine and found either a news story or an obituary. Their deaths were attributed to bear attacks as they had been found out in the wilderness, mutilated almost beyond recognition. Jon even found pictures of two of the victims on some gore forum and had to take a break after seeing their corpses. A hiker had stumbled upon their remains and snapped some pictures before notifying the authorities. A cursory peek at the photos showed chunks taken out of flesh, and things that were supposed to be on the inside were now on the outside.

Jon fixed himself another cup of tea with shaking hands, and when he sat back down on the couch he made sure to clear his browsing history, wishing he could scrub the images from his mind as cleanly as he could from his computer.

Something interesting he noted was that after going to Halibut Cove, none of the victims died right away. For some it was months down the road, and the luckier ones had years before they were killed. Not surprisingly, Elias had called it from the beginning. It seemed an entity of The Hunt was targeting unsuspecting tourists and locals in that part of the United States. Normally it wouldn’t have been his problem; after all, the Eye was only for observing, not taking action. But there was something concerning, and familiar, throughout all the statements.

Everyone started dreaming about the house before they were killed.

It was concerning because as far as Jon was aware, he had never been to that part of the United States. The closest he’d gotten was that abandoned town in Oregon where Gertrude had put a stop to the Buried’s ritual all those years ago. So why was he having these dreams?

It was possible that he’d come across the entity -at this point he was sure it was a person, like Daisy, who was able to operate in normal society without issue- and that was cause for alarm. It would be useless to cast his thoughts back to every person he’d run across in the last six months, much less anyone he’d met before then. The thought made him feel helpless. And frightened.

Someone could be out there right now biding their time, waiting to strike when Jon least suspected them.

A knock at his door cause him to almost upend his coffee table as he jumped up in fear.

“Jonathan, it’s me.” Elias’s voice was muffled through the door and Jon relaxed only minutely, because having Elias here created a whole other set of problems Jon didn’t want to deal with right now.

Even so he cautiously approached his front door, going so far as to take a look through the peephole, only to be met by Elias’s stern, disapproving expression. Jon rolled his eyes and pulled open the door to see Elias standing in the hallway, looking severly out of place amongst the worn carpet and fading paint in his perfectly tailored suit and camel colored overcoat that probably cost more than several months of Jon’s rent. He was holding a file in black gloved hands and when Jon opened the door fully, he immediately held it out for him to take.

Jon hesitated only a fraction of a second, his eyes zeroing in on the writing on the front of the folder.  _ Whittier, AK - 2016 _

Not that long ago then. Jon grabbed the folder and turned away from the door, his sudden need to read its contents overwhelming any common courtesy he would have normally displayed when receiving guests. He could feel Elias’s amused gaze on his back as he retreated back to the couch.

Dimly he was aware of Elias moving about his flat, no doubt looking at his things. He would normally be annoyed at that, the invasion of privacy -which was rich considering what entity he was currently associated with- but he was too caught up in the statement to pay him any mind. The spidery handwriting on the page matched the writing on the back of the picture, which was now sitting in the folder, where it belonged.

The man who’d given the statement, Jacob, was a shrimper out of a small town called Whittier. He’d been searching for a summer cabin with good fishing and hunting prospects -Jon shuddered at the implication- and found a listing for a house in Halibut Cove that seemed to meet all his requirements. He’d gone out there to meet the man who was selling it.

Cameron Wright was a high ranking military officer stationed at the Air Force base in Anchorage. He offered to let Jacob spend a few nights at the cabin to get a feel for the place and to explore the area. Jacob took him up on the offer and spent a weekend out there but had a feeling something wasn’t right. The whole time he was there he felt like he was being stalked, the way a predator stalks its prey before it strikes.

He left the house before the end of the second day, unable to handle the odd feeling. Even though he returned home he couldn’t shake it and he feared for his life ever since.

Jon frowned down at the file, looking at the name that had been highlighted. Cameron Wright. It sounded familiar, but it wasn’t anyone he could place. He didn’t recall ever meeting anyone by that name, let alone anyone from the American military. Ever. But yet…

“You  _ have _ met him before,” Elias said as he sat down on the other end of the couch, resting an ankle on his knee. He was completely still, a stark contrast to Jon, who couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was only slightly bothered by Elias’s closeness and the fact that he seemed to read Jon’s mind just then. Jon was too focused on trying to unravel this odd tangle of information.

He frowned. The one thing he hated more than anything else was being unable to solve a puzzle. He always prided himself on his knowledge and ability to suss out information, whether it be from books or from people. That’s why he made a good researcher. That’s why he made a good Archivist. And his inability to recall something as specific as meeting an American military man by the name of Cameron Wright called into question how good of a researcher, how good of an Archivist, he actually was.

And of course Elias knew, and of course he wanted Jon to figure it out for himself. Jon hated having to rely on Elias to guide him to an answer. Jon scrubbed at his face and let out a frustrated noise, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling, as if he could just pull the information right out of his head.

“It wasn’t in person,” Elias continued, his voice quiet. Jon wanted to snap at him to shut up, he could figure it out on his own, he just needed  _ time _ . An image of the photo flashed in his head and he took it out of the file, scouring the surface for any sign of a person. If there  _ was _ someone in the photograph he couldn’t see them, especially because the image itself was grainy and the mist obscured almost anything not bigger than the house or trees surrounding it.

The photo had something to do with it, he was sure of it. He recalled the chuckle he heard after finding the picture the first time, and then he remembered he heard it again when he-

“The man you were talking to in your office,” Jon said suddenly, the excitement of puzzle pieces slotting into place dimmed by the realization that he had come incredibly close to the person causing all of this, even if it was over video call. Jon looked over at Elias, who was watching him with intense interest. Jon’s stomach flipped and he licked his suddenly dry lips. Elias’s eyes tracked the movement.

“Yes,” Elias said. “That was Cameron Wright.” He sounded reserved about it, as if admitting it pained him a little bit.

“You know him,” Jon prompted, being careful to not accidentally compel the other man. Nothing good came of it, ever, even if it were an accident.

“Yes,” Elias repeated and Jon frowned at him, wondering if this was one of those conversations where Elias was only going to offer one word answers. Jon signed and returned his gaze to the open file folder. “Tell me what you found.”

Jon looked up at the other man sharply. He had a suspicion that Elias already knew his findings, or at least wouldn’t be surprised to know that he did. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being mocked and he opened his mouth to say as much before Elias stopped him by raising his hands in a placating gesture.

“I am merely asking you to explain to me, in detail, what you’ve learned from these statements, that’s all.” Elias’s voice was annoyingly soothing, as if he were trying to calm a wild animal, and Jon snorted. It wouldn’t hurt, he told himself. It might actually be beneficial to talk it out, that way he could connect the dots better.

“Each one of the statements belongs to a person who became one of Wright’s victims. They answered an advertisement for a house for sale on a remote island. They were offered a few days there as a trial period. Then when they were done they went back to their own homes and weren’t killed until later. Sometimes years later, actually. I’m not entirely sure why.”

Jon looked over at Elias again and saw him shrug, a gesture jerky on anybody else but on him it was a smooth motion, his shoulder rising up then coming back down. In his mind’s eye Jon could see the shifting of muscles underneath his shirt and looked away quickly before the image progressed any further.

He cleared his throat. “Before they died they were tormented by dreams of the house and developed a pervasive feeling of being watched, though not in the, uh, Beholding sense. More like being stalked, hunted.” Jon shivered, remembering how Daisy got when she caught the scent of something. The wild look in her eye, the way her hands twitched, as if she were envisioning them wrapped around someone’s throat. Or more like pulling the trigger on her always present handgun. Jon didn’t think he’d ever forget the smell of gunpowder.

A thought occurred to him then, about catching a scent and he muttered, more to himself than to Elias, “He was using the house to get their scent. They stayed there and used his things. He probably saved something from each person, a towel maybe, or a forgotten item of clothing. Something he could go back to later, after they’d long forgotten him.”

“That seems to be his preferred method now, yes,” Elias agreed. Jon shook himself out of the odd foggy state his mind went to whenever he got caught up in something of the statement variety.

“It doesn’t make sense though.” He ignored Elias’s raised eyebrow. “I’ve never even been to that house. I’ve never met him before, except for hearing his voice in your office, and I was having dreams long before then.” Jon felt like he was missing something and it was starting to drive him mad. He scrubbed his face with his hands in frustration.

“But I have.”

Jon stopped, peeking out between his fingers at Elias who was looking at him with a carefully neutral expression. Jon dropped his hands down and gaped at him. “Y-you what?”

“I’ve been to that house before. Almost a decade ago, in fact. What you were seeing in the dream was my memory of the place.” Before Jon could ask him about it Elias reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a small tape recorder, one of the slimline, compact ones. Jon couldn’t control the skip in his heart at the sight of that any more than he could control the weather. As much as he tried to suppress it, he  _ was _ the Archivist, and the thought of taking a statement, especially from Elias, was...exciting. Jon shifted, the low level heat that had been simmering in his belly since Elias’s arrival flaring to life.

“Would you like to take my statement, Archivist?” Elias asked, his voice low, almost sultry.

_ Now that wasn’t fair _ , Jon thought as he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. His cock twitched in his trousers, the loose material making it visible to anyone who was looking. But Elias kept his eyes locked with Jon’s, and he slowly held the recorder out toward him, his long fingers unfolding around it.

Jon deliberately ignored the flash back to his dream where Elias’s fingers were wrapped around something else entirely, and reached out to take the device with trembling hands. When his fingers brushed against the other man’s, he couldn’t stop the sharp inhale at the almost electric jolt that shot up his arm.

An unfamiliar, primal part of him wanted to toss the recorder to the floor and launch himself at Elias, take his mouth with his own, show him exactly what Elias was doing to him, make him feel the same. He wanted to hear Elias moan his name while Jon stroked him until he spilled hot and wet across his fingers. He could see Elias’s answering reaction, his pupils dilating until only a small ring of green remained.

As much as Jon wanted to see how far he could push the other man, he couldn’t help but break his gaze to look at the tape recorder. The cassette was already seated inside, waiting for Jon to press record. His finger hovered over the button and he looked back up at Elias, whose lips twitched in amusement at Jon’s internal struggle, though his gaze also held a touch of fondness that made Jon’s chest clench in a not altogether unpleasant way. He nodded and Jon depressed the button with a click.

“S-statement of, uh, Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute regarding a...um. A house on Halibut Cove, Alaska. Statement taken direct from subject, twenty nine August, two thousand and eighteen.” Jon swallowed, he eyes seeking out Elias’s of their own accord. “Statement begins.”

“I met Cameron Wright in the fall of two thousand and eight when he was on special assignment in London. He was a Major in the United States Air Force working at the Embassy. How we met is of no concern to the story, just that we did. I knew what he was from the moment I saw him. Those claimed by the Hunt have a unique way about them, it’s very easy to tell if you know what you’re looking for. In this case he was always moving, never able to stay in the same spot for more than a few seconds. If he were confined to a singular space, as he often was because the higher you climb the military ladder the less you were able to get your hands dirty, so to speak, he would pace at the back of the room.”

Elias paused to settle back into the couch. His bent knee brushed against Jon’s thigh and Jon held incredibly still, afraid that any movement would break Elias’s concentration. It was highly unlikely, but Jon didn’t want to take any chances.

“Something you may not have picked up on yet about the agents of the Hunt, though you should have,” Elias stopped again and gave Jon a  _ look _ and Jon could help but feel like he was being chastised, “is that you’ll most often find them working in some form of law enforcement, when they deign to be a productive member of society. They’re able to feed their Master under the guise of justice and most can sustain themselves that way.”

Jon couldn’t say he was surprised by that revelation. He remembered how Daisy was, the way she acted when she had someone in her sights, the singular focus with which she would pursue them until one of them, usually Daisy, came out the victor.

“Unfortunately for Cameron, he had two things working against him. The first being that once he caught the thrill of the Hunt, he needed more to sustain him than the one or two kills a year most of his ilk would be happy with. He was able to get his fill of violence when he deployed, but once he got promoted, and this is the second part, he was unable to continue his hunting. They stationed him here in London and I was fortunate enough to make his acquaintance at a time where I could observe his descent into madness first hand.

“He was irritable, easily angered, prone to random fits of violence but only on objects, never on people. He knew better than to go after any of the population here. Too many eyes on him, so to speak. He confessed to me one night over drinks that his superiors were talking about placing him under a mandatory psychiatric hold to assess his mental status. He asked for my advice. I declined to give him any, citing my lack of understanding of the American military structure. In reality I was curious to see how the situation would unfold.”

Jon gaped at him, horrified that the man would rather forego helping a so-called friend in favor of watching him self-destruct all for the pursuit of knowledge.

“Don’t look at me like that Jonathan, you should know by now that knowledge is power, and you could have all that power at your fingertips if you would just stop trying to help people and watch them actually face the consequences of their actions.” The last few words came out in hissed annoyance and Jon scowled, opening his mouth to argue before Elias gave an irritated wave of his hand, prompting him to close it with a click. Still, he glared.

“We are not going to revisit this conversation.” It was a dismissal but Jon knew the subject would come up again. It was something they butted heads on with regularity and Jon didn’t think either of them were going to budge on their stances. “Before anything could be decided regarding Cameron’s career, he received orders to Alaska. He was the happiest I had ever seen him, and eighteen months after coming to London, he left. I looked in on him for the first few months, but his new life was unremarkable. He had settled down relatively well, and the turmoil that I had felt in him was gone. To be honest, I had my hands full with other things at the time and didn’t look too closely at what might have been the cause for that newfound peace. Considering the current circumstances, it is something I regret not having done.

“You can imagine my surprise when I received a phone call from Cameron, about a year after he left, inviting me out to his hunting cabin. To anyone else it would seem normal. It’s not unusual to have a residence for that one specific purpose. Hunting is common in that part of the world, though for Cameron it meant not moose, or even bear, but people. I knew this and I went anyway. Sometimes our quest for knowledge leads us into situations not suited for self-preservation.

“I needn’t have worried, however. I ended up on a small island called Halibut Cove and met Cameron at his house. It was impressive, actually. I could see why he was drawn to the place. It was completely isolated from the rest of the island; the only way to get there was by boat. I caught glimpses of what he had been up to, but he had grown stronger and was able to conceal himself better from the Eye.”

“Did he know who you were, er, are?” Jon asked, unsure if Elias got the meaning behind the question due to the silence the other man met him with. He opened his mouth to clarify before Elias spoke again.

“When we first met? No. But I believe he he had an inkling when he contacted me and he wanted to confirm it himself, thus the invitation. Do you know how he became stronger?” Elias waited for Jon’s answer, but when none came he continued, “He stopped hunting people and started hunting other avatars. Most of them were from rival Powers but he also had no qualms about taking out his own kind either. Eliminating the competition. And considering there are several military bases scattered around the area, there was no shortage of targets. Killing one avatar was able to sustain him for months. The stronger they were, the longer the satiation lasted.”

Jon shuddered at the sudden feral smile that stretched Elias’s lips thin. It looked wrong on him, like he was channeling someone else and they were forcing his face to move in ways that were unnatural. Jon knew the feeling. He felt the same way when he read statements and lost himself in their subjects. It was weird to see it happen to someone else. He didn’t like it.

“Obviously, he didn’t try to hunt you when you went there,” Jon prompted, and watched with some relief as Elias’s features settled back to their normal expression.

“No,” Elias confirmed. “I think he wanted to see if hunting me was worth it, if chasing me down and ripping me apart limb from limb would give him the satisfaction he craved. As I mentioned before, he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt but at the time I don’t think he deemed me worthy.”

A cold trickle of dread made its way down Jon’s spine. “But now he does,” he said softly and Elias just nodded. They lapsed into a heavy silence. Jon shifted, turning himself more fully toward Elias, and this time it was his knee that brushed against Elias’s thigh. Elias met his eyes then and the words tumbled out of Jon’s mouth before he could stop them. “What did you do while you were there?” He already knew the answer, he wasn’t sure why he asked the question.

“We were...intimate.” It wasn’t fair how his voice affected Jon, low and rough, like stubble against his skin. Jon sucked in a shallow breath, swallowing against the feeling rising up in his chest, something hot and bitter, arousal mixed with jealousy. “That was when he marked me,” Elias continued, his eyes roaming Jon’s face, not bothering to hide the hungry way his gaze lingered on Jon’s lips. Jon suppressed a groan that threatened to force its way out of his throat.

Suddenly his lips felt incredibly dry. Jon’s tongue came out to moisten them and he watched Elias’s nostrils flare at the movement. He had to clear his throat several times before he said, “That’s why you started having the dreams.” Elias simply nodded at his observation.

Jon still hadn’t figured out how certain entities could affect dreams. He’d been curious about it in the past but never found the right time to bring it up. Now would have been a good time to ask, to figure out why  _ he _ was getting the dreams when Elias was the one being hunted, but Elias was moving closer to him, pressing him against the side of the armrest. He could feel a brief puff of air against his mouth before Elias covered his lips with his own.

Jon’s hands came up to clutch at his shoulders, fingers grasping at the fabric of his jacket. Rough stubble scraped against the sensitive skin around Jon’s lips and he moaned. Elias took advantage and pushed his tongue into Jon’s open mouth, tasting him, before he pulled back and off, retreating toward the opposite wall, his eyes hazy with arousal.

Jon breathed heavily, shivering as cold air seeped into space Elias had just occupied. His cock throbbed painfully, trapped as it was in his pants. He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed by the tent in the fabric, because Elias looked just as affected and it took all of Jon’s willpower not to spring up from the couch and push him against the wall to finish what the other man had so clearly started.

Instead he gasped out, “What the hell Elias.”

“It would be,” Elias started, then swallowed when his voice broke. “It would be inadvisable to proceed any further. Not until I can be sure Cameron is dealt with. I don’t need the distraction and I would prefer him not to target you next.”

It was such a ridiculous thing for Elias to say that Jon’s arousal was washed away by a rising tide of anger. He jumped up from the couch. “I’m a distraction, am I? That’s a weak excuse and you know it! He’s already got wind of me, you said so yourself. I’ve been getting the same dreams as you!” By the end of the sentence he was properly shouting, face red and hands clenched at his sides.

“You’re getting the dreams because of me!” Elias snapped back at him. Jon crossed his arms over his chest and motioned for Elias to continue. He watched the other man take a calming breath, resisting the urge to do the same, and waited. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Elias said, with poorly concealed irritation, “Honestly Jon, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you and I are connected in ways that we don’t share with the others.” An expression Jon had never seen before flitted across Elias’s face. It was there and gone in a fraction of a second, and if Jon wasn’t looking intently at him, he would have missed it. Hurt. Disappointment.

It felt like a kick to the chest and Jon refused to figure out why. He hid that feeling in his anger when he spat out, “Why? Because I’m the Archivist and you’re my handler?”

“If that’s how you want to define our relationship, then yes.”

_ We don’t  _ have _ a relationship!  _ Jon wanted to yell, but deep down he knew that was a lie, and he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. All he could do was sneer at Elias while he tried to get his thoughts in order, the rush of anger fading into a dull ache at his temples. He rubbed at his eyes, suddenly tired, and sat back down on the couch.

“Why now?” he muttered, mostly to himself, but then he raised his head and asked, “Why am I suddenly seeing your dreams now, why not any time before this?”

“Because I’ve been under a lot of stress. Cameron’s projecting was affecting me far longer than you and the lack of sleep amongst other things has caused my control to slip.” Elias looked pained at the admission, but Jon couldn’t help but feel a little victorious that Elias actually told him the direct truth instead of something cryptic that Jon had to figure out later.

“So what does that mean exactly? Will I be able to read your thoughts some day? Push images into your head?” The thought was terrifying. Jon never wanted this power, and the scope of what he could do, of how he could affect people, left him feeling sick. He didn’t want to end up like Elias.

The other man frowned at him, as if he  _ were _ reading Jon’s thoughts and disapproved of them. “Maybe someday, but not now. Not when you keep pushing back against me, keeping up your little one man rebellion.” Elias glared and Jon sneered, though the fighting feeling faded fast.

“So when I go to sleep tonight will I be able to control what happens in these dreams? Could I just...think of being somewhere else and go there?”

Elias was shaking his head even before Jon finished his sentence. “The dreams are mine, and only I can control what happens in them. When I noticed you in them for the first time I tried to find a way to get you out, but short of somehow waking you up you were stuck in them, just as I was.”

So everything Jon saw in the dream was the result of Elias. So did that mean- “The dream the other night, when you- that was you-” He couldn't even get the words out. His face felt impossibly hot. He'd called Elias a prick. Worse.  _ He’d fucked Elias's mouth. _

Oh god.

“Yes, I was controlling that also.” Elias's voice was deliberately neutral but when Jon managed to drag his eyes up to look at the other man's face he could see a flush spreading up his neck, though he did look slightly amused. Bastard.

“ _ Why _ ?” It came out more anguished than Jon intended, but he was just so flustered he couldn't manage anything else.

“Because I needed you to stop thinking about what was outside that door and sex is a failsafe distraction.”

Jon thought if his face got any hotter it would spontaneously combust. He wondered if the Desolation was hiring. “I thought you said I couldn't control what happens in the dreams. Why did I need to be distracted in the first place?”

“You project your thoughts Jon, and you do it very loudly. Sometimes it’s hard for me to hear myself think when you’re around.” Elias said it so matter of factly, as if it were an everyday thing he had to deal with, like answering an email or attending a meeting.

Jon wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment. Or if the Buried could take pity on him and open up a chasm right underneath him. This was  _ too much _ and  _ why the fuck didn’t Elias point this out to him earlier?! _

“It only happens when you’re particularly emotional. And if it makes you feel any better, I hardly pay attention to your little outbursts anymore.” Elias didn’t bother to hide his amusement this time, his lips twitching up in a suppressed smile as he watched Jon’s horrified reaction. “In any case you needed the distraction because my concentration was slipping and I did not want us to end up back outside.”

Jon buried his face in his hands, not sure where to even begin processing the information he’d been given, not just about himself but about the current situation. He felt overwhelmed, was reeling from how open Elias was being with him. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but at the same time he wanted Elias to keep talking, to keep giving him information even though his head felt full to bursting already.

He heard Elias shift and lifted his head to squint at the other man. His vision was blurry, either due to tiredness or having the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes, or probably both. Elias approached him and Jon tensed, holding in a breath, but the other man kept a wide berth, going round the opposite side of the coffee table to grab the statement he’d brought. He also grabbed the tape recorder, depressing the ‘stop’ button with a loud click. Jon winced. Elias’s statement would certainly be interesting to re-listen to.

“I took the liberty of contacting Jacob. I’m waiting for a reply. I’ll keep you updated.” And just like that Elias was back in business mode. Jon wasn’t sure why he was disappointed. He trailed the other man as he made his way toward the front door, not sure what to say, if there even  _ was _ anything to say. “If you want, you can take the day off tomorrow. I’ll just have you fill out the leave paperwork when you come in on the day after.”

Jon didn’t bother to resist rolling his eyes. He was learning to see through Elias. He knew the other man wasn’t unaffected by their conversation, by the kiss, by  _ everything _ currently happening. He pulled professionalism around him like a shield but now that Jon knew, he could see right through it.

“I’ll be in tomorrow,” Jon stated and Elias nodded at him before he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Jon immediately locked it and went back to the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh. There was a lot to process. He leaned back, resting his head against the padded frame and closed his eyes with the intention of just giving himself a brief moment of reflection.

He fell asleep instead.

***

Jon rubbed at his neck as he entered the front doors of the Institute. His couch was comfortable, but the position he’d fallen asleep in was not and he woke up with a twinge that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. He went straight to his office, foregoing his usual routine of going to the break room for tea. He wasn't ready to face Elias. Not yet.

He stared at the statements still stacked on his desk -the pile seemed bigger, did Basira put in overtime or something?- and sighed. Might as well start on them. At least with recording Jon could put his mind on autopilot. It would be nice not to have to think for a change.

By lunch he barely made it through half the stack when Elias came into his office. He looked particularly exhausted and Jon realized that he hadn’t dreamed at all the night before. He frowned at the other man.

“We should come up with some kind of sleep schedule so that we can at least be somewhat well-rested,” Jon proposed, not bothering to wait to hear the reason for Elias’s visit.

“As much as I like the idea, we may not have to.”

Jon’s heart, already beating double time with Elias standing so close even though they were separated by a desk, leaped into his throat. He waited for Elias to elaborate.

“Jacob is willing to meet with me. He has a plan.”

“He’s coming  _ here _ ?” Jon asked, incredulous. That was a long distance to travel just for someone to follow-up on their statement.

“No, I’ll be meeting him in Anchorage.” Elias paused, waiting for Jon’s reaction.

Jon didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help it. “ _ Are you out of your mind _ ?” he hissed, jumping up from his chair and coming around the desk. He reached out to shake Elias by the shoulders but stopped himself before he actually made contact. “It’s a trap, you realize this?” It was a rhetorical question. Of course Elias knew, how could he not?

“Isn’t there anything else you can do? Find Daisy and send  _ her _ out there instead?” Jon hated how it sounded like he was begging. Why? Why did he care that Elias was going off to face some killer when he’d sent Jon on suicide missions in the past without so much as a ‘good luck’?

Was it because of this connection Elias kept bringing up? Was it making Jon more sympathetic toward him? Or was it because he was finally starting to see Elias as a person, as someone who, no matter how hard he tried to be otherwise, was imperfect and vulnerable?

“Daisy hasn’t been the same since the Unknowing, you know that,” Elias replied in admonishment. Then quieter, “Cameron has been an albatross around my neck for months now and I want to cut the string myself. There is a plan in place, I am confident that it will work.”

Jon wanted to stomp his foot in a childish show of anger. There had to be a way to convince him that this was a bad idea. Elias wasn’t prone to making stupid decisions, but he admitted it himself, the lack of sleep was affecting him. This foolhardy decision to go into the lion’s den was just evidence of that.

Jon opened his mouth to say as much, that maybe they should take a little more time to figure some things out, that if they just ignored the dreams Cameron would get bored and set his sights on someone else. Instead, what came out was, “I can help. I’m going with you.”

He didn’t expect Elias to get mad and was taken aback when the other man’s face contorted in anger and he said forcefully, “Absolutely not.” Jon frantically tried to think of a good reason why he should go. He didn’t want to, but something in him told him that he needed to, if only to make sure Elias came back whole and unharmed. He still wasn’t sure where Elias fell on the hierarchy of the Beholding so he didn’t know if he was easily replaceable or not. Still, Jon wasn’t keen on getting a new boss, even though Elias was a really shite one.

He didn’t say all this out loud of course, though he had a brief moment of panic at remembering Elias’s remark about projecting his thoughts. Since Elias’s glare didn’t change, Jon figured he didn’t have to worry about that, at least. And he’d finally decided what he could use as leverage to change Elias’s mind.

“L-look,” he started, “if something happens to you, something’s gonna happen to me. You said so yourself. Would you really risk the Institute losing its Head  _ and _ its Archivist?”

Elias dismissed that idea with an irritated wave of his hand. “I’m confident now you’re strong enough that my death will be of little consequence to you.”

“Are you?” And Jon couldn’t stop the small bit of compulsion that slipped out with the question. Elias noticed it, his eyes darkening in anger, but Jon could see his expression shift, that little seed of doubt planting itself in his brain and taking root. “I can help you. If your plan doesn’t work out I can keep him distracted. I can compel him. You know I can.” He wasn’t too keen to see if he could make someone hurt themselves, but he was willing to try it on someone like Wright. “You know we’re stronger than him if we work together.” That was it. The final nail in the coffin.

Elias’s shoulders sagged in defeat. The tension that had kept Jon’s muscles taut throughout their exchange finally snapped and he felt like he was going to fall over. He reached back behind him to feel for the edge of the desk and then sat down heavily on the corner. He looked up into Elias’s face, waiting for him to voice his acquiescence, but the other man stayed silent, a thunderous frown deepening the wrinkles around his mouth.

Jon licked his lips, the sudden urge to kiss away that disapproval almost too much to resist. He gripped the edge of the desk hard, the pain of the sharp lip digging into his palms giving him something else to focus on. He swallowed thickly.

“So, when do we leave?” It definitely wasn’t the right thing to say if Elias’s glare was any indication. But it got him to come back from wherever it was he had gone in his mind.

“I’ll be in touch,” Elias said darkly before turning and leaving Jon sitting on the edge of his desk feeling like he’d just finished a marathon. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there like that for but at one point Basira poked her head through the doorway with a concerned look on her face.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“I uh. I’ll be leaving for a few days. I think.” Jon actually wasn’t sure how long Elias planned for them to be gone. Probably not more than a day, two at the most. “Would you be able to-” He motioned behind him at the stack of statements still waiting to be recorded. Basira frowned at the same time she nodded.

“Yeah, sure. So are you going to tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to guess?” Her tone was light but she still held worry in her eyes. Jon liked her. She was like a breath of fresh air down here in the old and musty Archives. She’d probably be able to take over for him should anything happen. Not that he would ever wish that on her.

“Well, I’ll give you my statement if I manage to make it back here in one piece. Or in as few pieces as possible.” Jon tried for levity but it fell flat, like it always did. He was starting to get nervous, the butterflies in his stomach feeling more like rocks with wings. “Look, Basira, if I don’t-” He stopped when she held up her hand.

“Look, I’m sure whatever it is you have planned will go smoothly-” Jon snorted at that but Basira ignored him and continued “-so I’ll see you when you get back, yeah?”

Jon couldn’t help but feel a little better. Talking to Basira always had that effect on him. He nodded to her, feeling more confidence than he perhaps ought to considering the circumstances. “Yeah, okay.” She gifted him with a smile, just a small lifting of the corners of her mouth and Jon couldn’t help but return it, his own lips twitching as if they’d forgotten how to make that particular expression.

When she left he sighed into the empty room and slowly got up from the desk. He turned to survey the messy surface and decided if he was going to expect Basira to step in for him as Archivist he should at least leave her a clean place to work.

***

He tried to find Martin but he wasn’t in his office. Jon searched the entirety of the Archives and even walked the rows of shelves in Artifact Storage but didn’t so much as get a glimpse of his -now rather elusive- assistant.

Martin had become worryingly reclusive after the Unknowing was thwarted. Part of that was because he’d started searching for Tim, whose body had never actually been identified in the rubble after the explosion. The other part...Jon wasn’t so sure about.  It could have been Elias getting into his head like he did Melanie’s. It could have been Tim disappearing. It could have been Jon, with his years of verbal abuse.

When Jon had heard that tape for the first time he’d become apoplectic with rage. He’d never felt the urge to actually kill someone -Nikola didn’t count because she was obviously nowhere near human- until that moment. Elias had chosen that day to conveniently have a meeting at an outside location and all Jon could do was sit in his office and steep in his fury.

But over time that anger had faded and now he and Elias were...something. Not friends, surely, but at some point Jon had stopped looking at him as an enemy. He felt guilty about that. Melanie was gone and while Jon still felt anger on her behalf he felt more relieved she no longer had to struggle with what Elias had done to her. And Martin...Martin was strong. Far stronger than Jon ever gave him credit for and he had to trust that when Martin said he was going to be okay he was telling the truth. It didn’t stop Jon from wanting to apologize though.

He tried on numerous occasions, to tell him he should have never left him alone with Elias, to ask if there was anything he could do to earn Martin’s forgiveness. And Martin would look at him with eyes that used to be bright but were now dulled by trauma and shake his head before walking away.

If Jon was going to die on some godforsaken island in the middle of the wilderness he was damn well going to make sure that Martin knew how he felt before he left.

He wandered out of Artifact Storage, unsure where to check next. He used to know where Martin’s old hangouts were but he found that information hard to recall. The only thing readily available in his mind these days were statements and the things he’d learned about the various entities. It didn’t help that Martin made himself scarce most of the time.

He didn’t realize where his meandering feet were taking him until he ended up at the break room where Martin was sitting at one of the tables, hunched over, his back to the doorway. Jon felt rooted to the spot. This was what he was looking for, wasn’t it? He’d found Martin, now all he needed to do was open his mouth and apologize. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Instead of standing there staring at my back, you could come in and have a seat.”

Martin’s voice startled Jon into action. He took one hesitant step into the room, then another, and with numb fingers he pulled out the chair at the other end of the table and sat. Martin had a mug between his hands, steam rising up from the hot tea inside. He looked at Jon expectantly.

“Martin-” Jon started, swallowing against the familiar lump in his throat. He dragged his eyes up from the tabletop to meet Martin’s gaze. This time though Martin was looking at him in amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching in a poor attempt to conceal a smile.

“You’re really rubbish at this, aren’t you?” Martin said, laughter evident in his voice. Jon gaped. “Jon, don’t blame yourself. Really, I mean it.” Martin rushed ahead before Jon could refute his statement. “You were going into this just as blind as the rest of us. You did what you could.”

Part of Jon knew Martin was right, but the other part of him, the one that held memories of Melanie and Sasha and Tim, was a constant reminder that he could have done better, that they were dead because of him. And even if Tim wasn’t dead, if Martin’s conviction was anything to go by, Jon should have tried harder to stop his descent into bitterness and hatred. He’d buried his head in the sand for too long and look at what happened.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you,” Jon said finally. Martin looked at him, confused.

“There were other things going on Jon, things much bigger than me or Melanie or Tim.” His voice cracked on Tim’s name and Jon’s chest clenched. He reached out and put a hand on Martin’s wrist. They both looked down at the contact, Martin with a pained expression and Jon with a thoughtful frown.

“I meant before that too,” Jon murmured. “I was cruel to you, said a lot of terrible things about you, and I’m sorry for that. I should have been better to you, you didn’t deserve any of it. You still don’t. I’m sorry.”

Martin sucked in a shaky breath and looked up at Jon with a watery smile. “I forgive you Jon.”

It was like a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Jon’s eyes began to burn with moisture and he blinked several times to keep the unexpected tears at bay. He really needed to make more of an effort to connect with his assistants. Not just because they were his employees but because they were the closest things Jon had to friends.

He cleared his throat, intending to change the subject because the unusual display of emotion was making him uncomfortable, when a shadow fell over them from the doorway. He looked up, Martin turning in his chair to follow his gaze. Elias stood there, looking between them with a frown.

“What do you want?” Jon asked testily, his anger flaring again, though muted, not as bright as before. He wrapped himself in that feeling, using it as a shield to keep other, more problematic ones, from rising up to wash his irritation away.

“We leave tomorrow at nine a.m. I will meet you at the airport,” Elias announced, his frown darkening before he abruptly turned and walked back down the hall.

Martin gave Jon a quizzical look and Jon sighed. “It’s a long story.” It was hard to break old habits. He was used to keeping things to himself, not trusting anyone with information, and when he saw Martin’s expression shutter he realized what he’d said and squeezed Martin’s wrist in reassurance. “So let me get some tea first.”

***

Jon told Martin everything -well, almost everything- and then they both made their way back down to the Archives. Martin wanted to help. He always wanted to help, but Jon refused it. Martin didn’t need to get involved. And although the other man was hurt by Jon’s refusal he took it in stride, offering to help Basira with the statements while Jon was gone. Their goodbye was awkward but not nearly as awkward as it could have been.

When Jon left the Institute that night his steps and his heart were oddly light. He felt good, the closest he’d come to feeling at peace in a long time, though it fled the moment he stepped into his flat. It wouldn’t do to get complacent. There was still a serious conflict ahead of him and he needed to keep his wits about him. Otherwise Elias could die, which meant Martin might possibly die.

Jon still wasn’t sure if Elias had been telling the truth about them all being tied to him that way, but at the same time he didn’t want to take that chance. Plus, if Elias was taken out of the picture and Wright was still alive, there would be nothing stopping him from going after Jon next. Especially if he thrived on killing those with a stronger connection to their Master.

Jon hated that. Hated having something over him to call Master. But after this whole thing was over he would change that, even he died in the process. It was the least he could do for Basira and Martin, and Tim, wherever he was, if he was still alive. He’d put a stop to  _ all _ the Powers, not just the Eye. He had no idea how to accomplish that but he could worry about that later. Right now he needed to pack.

He pulled a well-worn leather duffel out of his closet and set it on his bed. He briefly thought about texting Elias to ask how many days they were going to be gone but immediately tamped down on the idea. He didn’t want to talk to Elias any more than he had to. He wasn’t going to go back under his spell.

Something that irked him, as he pulled clothes out of his closet to fold and place them in the bag, was whether or not Elias was doing this to him deliberately. He knew Elias was capable of inserting memories into people’s heads but what he didn’t know was if the memory had to have happened in actuality or if he could create one himself to use. The latter was far more terrifying than the former.

Could he do it with feelings too? Could he plant false feelings in someone’s head to make them more compliant? Because that would be a much more convenient excuse for Jon to use instead of the one he feared was actually true: that he felt those things for Elias of his own accord. He scowled, jerking another shirt off its hanger. So what? Even if he felt these things for Elias, the attraction, the arousal, the as of yet undefined attachment that probably had nothing to do with the Eye at all, Elias certainly didn’t feel the same about him.

It was something convenient that Elias could use to manipulate him further.  _ Well guess what you prick, it won’t work _ , Jon thought savagely, shoving something -another shirt? How many did he need?- into his bag before he realized what a mess he’d made.

In his anger he’d made an awful mess of packing his bag, clothes no longer folded and instead just shoved, with more force than necessary, through the zippered opening. Jon sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. Why did he insist he should go?  What use could he possibly be against things he still didn’t fully understand?

He sat down heavily on his bed, elbows on his knees. He was tired. He didn’t think he’d ever stop being tired, even after Wright got taken out of the picture.  _ If _ he did. Jon tipped sideways, letting his head sink into his pillow and let out a muffled sigh. He’d only close his eyes for a minute, then he needed to finish packing. Just a minute.

***

“ _ Fuck _ .”

He was staring at Elias sitting in the chair in front of the fire. “I definitely didn’t expect a warm welcome, but even so, that was a little rude don’t you think?”

“Oh shut up,” Jon snapped. “Aren’t you asleep a little early?”

“I’ve been awake for over thirty six hours Jonathan, there’s only so much paperwork I can do to keep my mind occupied.”

Jon snorted. Trust that Elias actually found paperwork  _ stimulating. _ “You really can’t just, oh I don’t know, think yourself awake? I need to finish packing.”

“If it were that easy we wouldn’t have had our little tête-à-tête before.”

Jon felt his face heating and reached for that anger again, but it was futile. Images of the way Elias looked up at him just before taking his cock in his mouth, the way his head bobbed between his legs flashed unbidden before his eyes. He could feel the ghost of Elias’s tongue teasing the ridge of his cockhead and clenched his teeth against a groan.

“Stop it,” he ground out.

Elias let out a bark of smug laughter. “It’s not me Jon, that’s all you. Tell me, what are you seeing?” His voice dropped, deep and silky, his eyes darkening to black pools in the firelight. Jon’s cock twitched almost painfully, the surge of arousal so strong he couldn’t quite keep in the breathy moan that slipped past his lips.

Jon’s brain tried to scramble for something, anything to break the hold Elias had on him - _ it’s not Elias you idiot, you’re doing this to yourself _ \- and Martin’s disapproving face swam into view but did little to temper the hot, heavy feeling in his groin. Jon closed his eyes but that just made it worse, his imagination running wild. He was straddling Elias in the chair, Elias was pressing him against the wall, Jon was face down on the carpet in front of the fire waiting for Elias to fuck him.

He felt a slight pressure change and when he opened his eyes he found himself naked, face down in front of the fire, fisting the long fibers of the carpet in his hands. He jerked his head around, saw Elias kneeling behind him, also naked.

“I liked that last one,” Elias said, voice raspy and undone as he reached to place his hands on Jon’s hips. He shuddered when Elias touched him, his hands impossibly hot on his already oversensitive skin.

He could try to fight it, crawl away if he wanted. He didn’t think Elias would go so far as to rape him, but this was Elias’s dream, he could make anything happen here. Except for escaping, apparently. Or he could let it happen, let his body finally get what it seemed to desperately want, and maybe it would finally quench the flame that had been building since their tête-à-tête, as Elias called it.

“Well, have you made your decision?”

Jon shuddered, Elias’s voice like velvet running along his spine. “I hate you,” he whispered, even as he opened his legs wider, pushed his ass back toward the other man. Elias’s hands tightened on his hips and Jon felt the head of his cock push against his hole. When Elias breached him there was none of the pain, none of the burning stretch that accompanied such acts. Instead it was a slow, delicious slide until he felt the other man’s groin fit tight against him.

When Elias started fucking him it felt familiar yet strange. The sensations were muted, dull around the edges as if Jon were  _ remembering _ what it felt like, not actually experiencing it presently. He couldn’t even be sure if these feelings were  _ his _ memory or Elias’s.

“Projecting,” Elias ground out, pausing in his thrusts to grind his hips against Jon’s ass. Jon rose up on his hands, locking his elbows, and pushed back against him, almost sending him sprawling backward with the unexpected movement. Elias retaliated by jerking his hips forward, spearing Jon with a brutal thrust that left him gasping.

They fought like that until they fell into an accidental rhythm, Jon pushing back to meet Elias halfway, Elias rolling his hips when he got  _ just _ deep enough to brush against Jon’s prostate. Jon’s cock leaked steadily underneath him, swinging heavy back and forth with the motion. Over his own moans he heard Elias breathing heavily behind him, small grunts escaping when their bodies met with the obscene sound of flesh on flesh.

Jon’s entire body ached with the need to come, his cock throbbed in time with his rapid heartbeat, so fast that it bordered on painful. He almost sobbed in relief when Elias let go of his hip with one hand, reaching underneath to fit his fist tight around him.

He rocked forward into Elias’s hand, then backward onto his cock, balancing on the precipice of orgasm for what felt like hours until his entire body was taut as a bowstring, trembling. The fire was too hot, sweat dripped into his eyes making them sting. This was torture. He was sure Elias was doing this deliberately.

Just when he was desperate enough to beg, Elias stopped and leaned over him, his lips brushing Jon’s neck and down to his shoulder. Jon pushed back against him with a whimper, wanting, needing Elias to keep moving. He was so close,  _ so close _ but Elias wouldn’t budge. He just brushed his mouth along Jon’s flesh, back and forth, his stubble rubbing the skin raw until all Jon felt was burning pain in its wake. There was an odd stillness to the scene, even the fire wasn’t flickering anymore.

Then Elias opened his mouth and bit down hard on the muscle between Jon’s neck and shoulder. Jon cried out-

-and woke up coming, his trapped cock pulsing in the confined space of his trousers. He groaned into the pillow, riding out his surprisingly strong orgasm until he was spent, biting back whimpers though no one was there to hear him.

When he finally came back to himself he was aware of a throbbing pain in his shoulder, the one Elias bit down on, and he reached up to touch it underneath his shirt. The skin was whole and unbroken but it ached deeply. He scowled up at the ceiling, gingerly swinging his feet over the side of the bed onto the floor, wincing at the way his briefs stuck to him.

He still needed to repack his duffel, and make a few phone calls. Mainly to Georgie to make sure that she remembered what to do in case he didn’t make it back. But first he really needed a shower.

***

Jon couldn’t look Elias in the eye when he met him at the airport the next morning. The other man was amused, and far too smug about the whole thing and that flustered Jon even further, especially when they were boarding the plane and Elias was pressed up tight against his back in the crush of people.

He’d gotten them first class seats, which must have cost a fortune for an international flight, not to mention at the last minute, but Jon was grateful because he hated flying. Being trapped in a confined space at altitude with a bunch of people he didn’t know made him irritable. His trip around the world -basically, anyway- was an exercise in patience. He’d ended up dosing himself with sleeping pills for most of the journey just so he didn’t have to listen to the ever present crying baby or one of the myriad sick people that coughed and never bothered to cover their mouth.

He took the window seat, not bothering to ask Elias his preference, and left Elias to load their bags into the overhead compartment. Jon took a moment to look around, as he’d never flown first class before, much less international first class. He thought he’d been underdressed in a pair of dark jeans and a button-up, but there was a woman who took a seat in front of them who wore a pair of sweatpants with the word ‘juicy’ bejewelled on her rear and her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun that resembled a bird’s nest, and he felt marginally better.

He kept to himself for most of the flight, not bothering to engage Elias in any conversation, and played around with the touch screen tv in the back of the seat in front of him. He scrolled through their movie selection, ignoring Elias’s amused glance when he settled on the new Avengers movie, and plugged in the headphones the airline provided to make himself just that much more unapproachable.

He must have fallen asleep, because he was gently shaken awake by Elias as the plane was getting ready to land. Jon hadn’t dreamt, but he also didn’t feel very well rested. And when they landed in New York the enormity of the task they were about to undertake hit him hard. He found himself standing in the terminal unable to take full breaths, his chest tight and his stomach in knots.

Elias pulled him along to an empty terminal and sat him in a chair. “Head between your legs Jon, that’s it, can’t have you going into a full blown panic attack, that will delay our scheduled meeting.”

Jon wanted to glare, but he couldn’t really focus, not when it felt like he was looking through a tunnel that was getting narrower by the second. He wasn’t sure if he actually passed out, but when he came back to himself the terminal was beginning to fill with people. The sounds filtered back to him in stages, first just a loud buzzing, getting clearer and clearer until he could distinguish actual words. Some people were giving him worried glances.

He looked around for Elias, his panic starting to rise again when he couldn't see him.

“I think your boyfriend went to get you something to drink.”

Jon whipped his head around to see an old lady looking at him with concern. “He’s not my boyfriend,” was his immediate response but it came out as a dry croak and the old lady reached out with a wrinkled bony hand and placed it over Jon’s trembling one.

“I used to be scared of flying too but once you get to be my age dying in a plane crash doesn’t seem so bad.”

Jon gaped at her, unable to find anything to say to that, and she patted his hand a few times before levering herself off the plastic terminal chair and tottering over to the window to look out onto the runway.

He turned his head back to the main thoroughfare and saw Elias striding toward him with a bottle of water in one hand and both their bags in the other. Jon tried not to let the relief show on his face.

Their layover seemed excruciatingly long and yet not long enough and by the time they boarded their next flight Jon’s stomach was roiling with anxiety, unable to calm the slight tremor in his hands. Elias paid him no mind, which simultaneously annoyed and relieved him. Jon needed reassurance, but the last person he wanted that from was Elias.

He stayed awake for the final leg of the flight, nerves making him fidget the closer they got to Anchorage. He’d brought notes with him but just the thought of reading over them made him sick. He knew what they were up against. He didn’t need a reminder.

As the plane circled for landing, Elias tried to speak to him about their schedule, where and when they were meeting Jacob, when they would leave for Halibut Cove, but Jon couldn’t hear him over the loud ringing in his ears.

_ Get yourself together _ , his brain shouted at him.  _ You practically begged Elias to take you with him, you can’t fall apart now _ . It took an enormous effort but Jon was able to calm himself down enough to at least not spill tea all over himself when the flight attendant brought some over at Elias’s request.

Jon didn’t look outside as they landed, though he could hear the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the other passengers as they peered out their windows at snow-capped mountains and icy glaciers. He had no interest in it. As soon as they flew over the land the feeling of something watching him, waiting for him, crashed over him like a wave and his nausea and anxiety returned tenfold.

He threw up twice in the airplane toilet before they landed, then once in the bathroom in the terminal, though that one was far less productive and only consisted of dry heaving. He didn’t ever remember it being this bad when he faced Nikola, why was he like this all of a sudden?

Maybe it was because of his lack of sleep, he was finding it hard to concentrate, to center himself so that he could tamp down on the anxiety. He was acting like a frightened animal that knew it was being hunted. A glance over at Elias showed he was faring only a little better than Jon was. His lips were pressed into a thin, bloodless line, his shoulders tense, hand clenched around the handle of his bag as they waited outside for a taxi.

Jon had no idea where they were going, so he was surprised when the taxi driver dropped them off at a place that looked like an industrial train yard right next to the bay. He followed Elias through a maze of shipping containers until they ended up at a smaller row of docks. There was a man standing next to one of the moored boats and Elias approached him.

“Jacob?” Elias asked, and the man turned, looking both of them up and down before extending his hand out for Elias to shake. He was short but broad, shoulders corded with muscle from a lifetime of hard labor. He had a round, flat face with a wide nose and almond shaped eyes.

“You must be Elias. I wasn’t aware you were bringing someone else.”

He spoke with an odd accent, one that Jon wasn’t able to place, and when the man met his eyes Jon resisted the urge to step back because he had the eyes of a predator, though he wasn’t looking at Jon like prey. They were allying themselves with another hunter, this one smaller in scale than the one they were going after, but a hunter nonetheless.

Jon pulled Elias aside and hissed, “Are you sure we can trust him? What if they’re working together and this is all part of the trap?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Jon,” was Elias’s initial response, and Jon opened his mouth to argue until he continued with, “Cameron works alone, he would never team up with anyone, much less someone who he feels is inferior.” It didn’t do much to assuage Jon’s anxiety but he’d gotten this far now, he had to trust Elias whether he wanted to or not.

“Are you two ready? If we leave now we can be at the island before sunset. Don’t think you want to be in the woods when the sun goes down.” Jacob had already boarded the boat, a long narrow thing with two tall poles that were hung with nets that draped over the stern.

_ Now who’s being melodramatic _ , Jon thought and tried not to roll his eyes. He refused Elias’s help boarding the vessel and Jacob took their bags to place them in the wheelhouse.

“How long of a trip is it?” Jon decided to ask, trying to make small talk and failing. He was always terrible at that.

“A couple hours,” was all Jacob said as he fired up the engines with a roar and navigated the boat out of the docks and into the bay.

Jon found his anxiety lapsing during the trip, mainly because he was too busy being seasick to focus on anything else. He spent most of the trip with his head hanging over the side railing dry heaving as he was pelted with salty sea spray. Elias stayed in the wheelhouse.

Just as he was getting used to the movement of the boat it started to slow, and Jon actually focused on his surroundings, noting in the back of his head how beautiful the landscape was with the bay surrounded on all sides by mountains dusted with snow, and he could see off in the distance a mass of land covered by tall evergreens, spearing the sky with their pointed tops.

His dread grew the closer they got, and the clear sunny day was swallowed by a cold misty fog that rolled along the water in unnatural movement. The wind had picked up along with the waves and the boat rocked violently side to side as they approached a crescent shaped area of land.

The boat slowed to a crawl, the engine dulling to a low rumble. Jacob came out of the wheelhouse and walked to the bow, chains clinking together as he prepared to drop the anchor. Jon tried his best to follow, he wanted to ask questions, but the ferocity of the waves kept him clinging to the wheelhouse doorway.

“So what  _ is _ the plan?” Jon decided to ask Elias, who was looking out over the water to where Halibut Cove should have been, had there not been the strange fog to obscure their vision. Jon swallowed against bile rising in his throat as the boat dipped precariously backward. He had a brief flash of his hands slipping from the doorway and his body tumbling down the stern and over the rails to be lost at sea amongst the waves and fog. He clutched the weathered wood a little harder.

“We’re going to take the rowboat to the island,” Elias started but was interrupted by Jacob coming back and inputting some information into the onboard computer.

“Are we even going to be able to make it there in these waves in a rowboat?” Jon asked, his voice high pitched and on the verge of hysterical. What did he get himself into? That was crazy, and both of them were acting as if there was nothing wrong with the idea of taking a tiny rowboat out into waves that the larger boat barely seemed to handle. They were going to die before they even got there. The plus side was that Wright wouldn’t get the satisfaction of killing them at least.

Elias gave him a flat look, and Jacob looked at him as if he couldn’t quite make sense of him and Jon threw up his arms in exasperation only to immediately grab onto the doorway when another wave came rolling in. He still stayed like that while Jacob got the rowboat ready with Elias’s help and had to pry his hands off the wood when it was time to make their way to the island.

Each step toward the smaller boat was heavier than the last and Elias practically had to drag him the rest of the way there, and Jon thought if he didn’t go over the railing willingly Elias would just toss him bodily over it.

Jacob navigated them expertly through the worst of the waves, though Jon held onto the sides of the boat hard enough that his knuckles were white. By the time the island came into view Jon was soaked and freezing. The house loomed out of the fog, windows dark and imposing. Jon couldn’t take his eyes off it, hardly believing he was actually here. His nerves were on edge and when the boat scraped up on the rocky beach he jumped at the noise.

Jacob was the first to exit, jumping into the ankle deep water to pull the boat further onto the shore. The sound of the rocks on the hull were grating against Jon’s nerves, setting his teeth on edge. It was loud, and the last thing he wanted was for them to call attention to themselves.

Elias was next, once there was enough dry land to jump out on and he held a hand out for Jon, who automatically took it even though he was startled at the gesture. Once his feet his the slick black rocks of the beach he was overcome with a rising fear that made all his muscles freeze and his throat close up. He could tell Elias felt it too, and even Jacob was looking around with a frown.

“Follow me, but when I tell you to stop, you stop. There are bears in these woods, but the moose are just as bad, if not worse,” Jacob was saying, as they picked their way around the slick rocks, rounded and polished by the sea. The woods were dense, and they stopped just before breaching the treeline. “There is a ritual that I am going to perform but the site is a ways into the woods.” Jacob looked down at Jon’s and Elias’s feet and gave them a wry smile. “Should have worn better shoes.”

_ Great, another bloody ritual _ , Jon thought, and then  _ I  _ hope _ it’s not actually bloody _ followed by  _ oh god does it require a sacrifice? Is it  _ me _? _

He heard Elias snort next to him. “Stop being ridiculous, Jonathan.” And Jon glared at the back of his head as he started to cross the treeline. Jon followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind. The woods were cold and humid, but the wind that had plagued them in the boat didn’t seem to penetrate the trees.

Something he noted with no small amount of trepidation was there were no sounds whatsoever. No bird calls, no animal movement, nothing. It was eerie. To distract himself from the silence Jon sped up his pace and joined Jacob at the front of the line.

“So are you still having dreams?” he asked. Jacob looked at him with a sideways glance, picking his way carefully around a large tree stump.

“They stopped a few months ago, which is when I’m assuming your friend’s began,” the man said.

“How did you deal with them?”

“I hardly sleep as it is. If I’m not out fishing I’m hunting -not people, just animals,” he clarified at Jon’s pained look. “I don’t sleep very much. And the dreams never bothered me.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Jon said wryly. “My dreams came all second hand and I had no idea what was going on at first. I still don’t quite understand it now, to be honest.” He ducked under a low branch then glanced over his shoulder. Elias was trailing behind them, giving them the illusion of privacy though Jon knew he could still hear every word. “Can you- can you tell me more about uh-” Gerard had called it The Hunt but Jon wasn’t sure if the entities who were a part of it called it something else.

“What? The Hunt?” At Jon’s nod Jacob looked thoughtful for a second. “I’m not entirely sure what you’re looking for. It’s not like once you become part of it you acquire all their knowledge or get an immediate understanding of it.”

_ If only. That would have made things much easier _ , Jon thought dryly.

“I think I was born into it though, if someone can be.”

“Why do you think that?” Jon prompted, unable to quite stop the compulsion that wove between the words. He didn’t think he’d need it for Jacob anyway, he seemed much more free with information than most despite his stoicness.

“My ancestors settled this land. They were hunters, fishers, and I’m sure it wasn’t hard for something like the Hunt to slip in somewhere and take hold without much notice or fuss.”

“The Hunters that I know of are bloodthirsty lunatics,” Jon said.

Jacob nodded at his assessment. “I’ve seen both sides. I can sustain myself on animals and fish, and I have never felt the desire to go after a person. But those that know what it’s like to take another human life, that’s something they can’t come back from.”

Jon shuddered. Jacob slowed to a stop, head cocked to the side, listening. Jon was too afraid to ask what he was listening for.

“You two will have to stop here. I will go ahead and perform the ritual then come back for you. It won’t take long.”

Panic gripped Jon like an iron bar around his chest. “You can’t be serious!”

“This is something that an outsider has no business witnessing,” Jacob said sternly. Jon jumped when Elias put a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll wait here,” he said and Jacob nodded. Jon opened his mouth to protest again, but Elias’s hand squeezed hard enough that a sound of pain escaped instead of the words he wanted to say. He watched, distressed, as Jacob resumed walking until he all but disappeared into the underbrush.

Standing there, Jon felt more exposed than he had on the beach and his heart pounded so loud in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. The only thing stopping him from bolting was Elias’s hand still on his shoulder.

“When he’s done, we’re going back to the boat to wait.” Jon wasn’t sure if Elias meant it as a reassurance but it did the trick, if only slightly. They still had to  _ get  _ there.

“What exactly is he doing?” Jon managed to ask.

“I am...not quite sure, actually,” Elias replied. “This place is shielded from me, I can’t See anything.” Jon picked up the subtle undertone of frustration in Elias’s words. Jon wasn’t going to lie, he desperately wanted to Know too but at the same time he took pleasure in Elias’s annoyance.  _ Sucks doesn’t it? _ And he projected that as hard as he could. Elias gave him an irritable glare.

“Don’t be petty,” he said and Jon couldn’t stop the smug smile that stretched his mouth. It vanished as soon as he saw a figure coming toward them through the trees. Jon’s hand shot out to grip Elias’s arm, fear making his legs suddenly wobbly. Elias had stiffened, but relaxed as soon as he realized that it was Jacob, coming toward them from a completely different direction than he’d set off on originally.

“It’s done, we should go,” Jacob said and just as they started to pick their way back down toward the beach a loud  _ crack _ echoed through the trees and all of them froze. Jon saw Jacob’s hands clench at his sides.

“That uh. T-that wasn’t a bear, was it?” Jon stammered and his stomach flipped when Jacob shook his head. Terror, cold and heavy settled in his gut. He was  _ frozen _ , unable to move even as Elias tugged on his arm. It was as if his feet had grown roots and planted themselves deep in the ground.

“Jon, we need to  _ go _ ,” Elias said, pulling and pulling until Jon thought his arm would fall off. “We just need to make it back to the boat. Cameron can’t swim, we’ll be safe there.”

_ Safe _ , Jon’s mind echoed and that was enough to spur him into action. He began to run, crashing through the trees as fast as his legs could carry him. His shoes rubbed the backs of his ankles raw, the pain drowned out by an all encompassing terror.  _ Safe safe safe _ he chanted in his head.  _ Just need to get to the beach _ .

His muscles burned, unused to being pushed this far, and he stumbled when one of his knees gave out, but Elias was there to catch him and push him forward. Branches slapped at his face, drawing blood in small scratches he could feel burning with the sweat that was beading on his cheeks and forehead. Just when he thought he couldn’t take another step, his body feeling like jelly, they burst out of the treeline onto the rocky beach and Jon didn’t bother to see if the other two were behind him as he made a beeline for the boat still half on shore.

He jumped into it, whirling when he felt it rock as Jacob slammed all his weight into pushing it off the beach and into the water. It took a minute to realize that Elias had slowed, was now standing several feet from shore, facing the trees, waiting.

“Elias!” Jon shouted, but he wasn’t sure the other man could hear him over the sound of the crashing waves. They were fully in the water now, Jacob frantically trying to row them past the waves that kept pushing them back to the beach. “Jacob we need to wait for Elias!” but the man didn’t even acknowledge him, singularly focused on rowing them to safety.

If Jon were a braver man he would have jumped into the water, swam up to the beach and grabbed Elias to drag him back to the boat, but he was not. And when another figure appeared at the treeline Jon let out a distressed moan because he knew instinctively who the other person was. He was too far to make out any distinguishing features, just that he was tall and broad. He wore the clothes that were popular with hunters, a camo pattern that made him indistinguishable from the trees behind him. It was Wright, and even as far away as he was, he was every bit as terrifying as Jon knew he would be.

Despite the bobbing of the boat, Jon kept his eyes locked on Elias, saw him talking, saw Wright take slow menacing steps toward him. There was a moment of absolute stillness. It felt like the boat was frozen on the peak of a wave, and Jon watched Wright start to circle, just how a hunter would its prey. He walked from side to side in a wide arch, and even though Jon couldn’t make out his features, he could tell he was grinning. He could feel the excitement coming off the other man, the thrill of a successful hunt and all he needed to do was make the final kill.

Jacob had stopped his rowing and instead turned to follow Jon’s horrified gaze, looking at the scene on the beach with a frown.

It was excruciating to watch Wright toy with Elias, though for the most part Elias seemed unruffled, barely turning his head to track Wright’s pacing movements. Wright’s arcs became smaller and smaller until only a few feet separated them and Jon held his breath, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

It actually happened simultaneously, Wright striking out and Elias dodging smoothly as if it were second nature. Wright struck out again and again without any real intent and Elias dodged each one, the movement effortless. Wright was toying with him, it was obvious, but Jon knew that if he kept it up Elias would eventually tire and that would be the end.

It was a strange dance, and Jon found himself wanting Elias to do something, anything to throw Wright off, to get the opportunity to escape.

Jacob was struggling to keep the boat turned in the correct direction so they didn't capsize and Jon probably could have helped him somehow but he didn't want to take his eyes off Elias because if he did he had a feeling something bad would happen. Water lapped at Elias's ankles as he was forced closer to the bay and Jon saw what was going to happen before it did.

During a dodge, Elias leaned back a little too far, moved a little too quickly, and he slipped, his foot sliding sideways on the rocks and it was like everything happened in slow motion. He started to fall, Wright charged forward to pounce on him at the same time Jon felt himself tipping sideways as a wave lifted the boat and threw it violently into the air.

He gasped when he hit the frigid water, choking as it filled his lungs. His entire body went numb from the cold and it took far too long for his sluggish brain to yell at him to kick his feet. His clothes, soaked through already, weighed him down and he kicked frantically for the surface. He was buffeted by waves on all sides and soon he was unable to tell which way was up or down.

The seawater burned his eyes when he tried to open them to get his bearings and his lungs began to ache from lack of oxygen. His vision began to pulse and go gray at the edges. He fought against the instinct to breathe and lost, sucking in another agonizing breath full of ice cold water. A heavy, burning pain filled his chest.

Then the pain began to fade, an odd calm falling over him. He stopped struggling as he descended. He didn’t even feel the cold anymore.

_ Well, at least I won’t give Wright the satisfaction of killing me _ , he thought distantly. He saw himself from far away, sinking into the darkening depths and the statement of the deep sea diver came to mind, of the hole she was transfixed by. If he opened his eyes would he also see a giant shadow moving silently through the gloom?

He didn’t get the chance to try. Something grabbed his shirt and began to pull him up. He struggled half heartedly, seemed like Wright was going to get to him after all, and when he broke the surface of the water he didn’t have enough space in his lungs to gasp for breath. He just let himself be pulled to shore, body scraping over the rocks. He still couldn’t feel anything.

When he was dropped down unceremoniously onto the beach it jostled him enough that he coughed out a mouthful of water. With the space now free, he inhaled just enough air that he was able to force it out again in another cough, then another. He hacked and sputtered, gagging with the force of it. He wasn’t able to prop himself up, his arms were too numb, so he rolled to his side as water streamed out from between his lips.

Someone started thumping his back with what felt like a brick, except when Jon turned his head it was Jacob using the flat of his hand to force more water out of his lungs. He tried to squirm away but his whole body was leaden, not to mention his clothes were sopping wet and sticking to him uncomfortably. He rolled onto his front, pushing himself up onto shaking arms and managed to drag his knees underneath him. He shook uncontrollably, the cold coming back to him in a painful pins and needles feeling. The wind coming off the water didn’t make the situation any better. He was probably settling into the first stages of hypothermia.

Jacob crouched next to him, his gaze fixed on something further down the beach. Jon was afraid to look but he forced his eyes up anyway. If he was going to die he would at least look Wright in the face as he did so. The first thing he saw was the blood splashed all over the rocks in dark ribbons. He followed their snaking shapes further up until he caught sight of a body and his stomach clenched. Except-

-it definitely wasn’t Elias. Unless Elias had somehow managed to switch clothes with Wright. And that was the only way Jon recognized it  _ was _ Wright because his face was was all but smashed in, his head split open like a crushed melon. Jon saw the cause almost immediately: a large rock next to him covered in gore, blood still dripping down to be washed away by the lapping water. A rock far too large for Elias to have wielded so effectively.

Jon pushed himself to his feet, legs numb as he made his way over to Wright’s body, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat as he got closer and saw fleshy bits of brain matter and the thicker pieces of skull that had yet to be washed away by the rising tide. Wright was most definitely dead, Jon saw no movement of his chest as he approached though he wasn’t about to get close enough to feel for a pulse.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye and Jon jumped, whirling around to see Elias trying to push himself to his feet. Jon rushed over there as fast as his weak legs could carry him, feeling guilty that he had completely forgotten about the other man in light of Wright’s demise. The relief he felt upon seeing Elias whole, despite an eye swollen shut and bruise starting to spread from his jaw, was palpable. He reached out to help Elias stand, steadying the man as he swayed once he got to his feet. He didn’t let go, even as Jacob approached them, skirting Wright in a wide arc.

“It worked,” Elias croaked out when Jacob stopped before them. They both turned to look at the treeline and Jon followed their gazes. His hands clenched on Elias’s arm when he saw a shadow moving back and forth between the trees.

“We should probably get going,” Jacob said quietly. Jon looked out to where his boat was anchored, and even though the waves seemed to have calmed, there was no way he’d be able to swim out there, considering the smaller lifeboat they’d taken ashore was probably at the bottom of the bay by now.

“Cameron has an inflatable raft he keeps in a shed round the front of the house,” Elias muttered, each word seeming to cost him what little energy he had left. He sagged against Jon with a grunt and Jon had to lock his legs to keep from tipping them both to the ground.

“I’ll go get it, just….stay here and try not to call attention to yourselves.”

Jon opened his mouth to ask why but Jacob was already heading toward the house. Jon saw he was moving cautiously, making sure to not turn his back to the treeline where the shadow was still pacing back and forth. Jon clung to Elias under the guise of keeping him upright and waited, scarcely daring to breathe. He wasn’t sure what was out there, and even though it didn’t set alarm bells ringing the same way Wright did Jon wasn’t going to take any chances.

There was a loud pop and the sound of hissing air and Jon jerked around, startled, turned to see Jacob fighting to keep hold of a large orange dinghy that had begun to inflate. Jon turned back toward the forest, noting the shadow had stopped moving and that was enough for him to start to make his way toward Jacob, the pace agonizingly slow due to Elias’s dragging feet. Jon tried to keep his attention split between navigating the slippery rocks and the treeline, but between looking down to guide them around some uneven beach and back up to the trees he’d lost sight of the shadow. By the time he reached Jacob he was all but dragging Elias behind him.

“We need to go,” Jon announced, fairly successful in keeping most of the panic out of his voice. Jacob helped him get Elias into the raft, then motioned for Jon to follow. Then the other man pushed them out into the cove, jumping in before the water came up to his ankles. He used an oar against the bottom to keep pushing them out until they were clear of the rocks and free-floating. That was when whatever had been stalking them in the woods made its way slowly out into the open.

Jon gaped. “Is that-is that  _ Bigfoot _ ?”

Elias snorted and Jacob gave him an unamused look, though Jon didn’t know why. The creature, and that was what it was despite the vaguely human features, had unusually long arms and legs and at first glance it looked like it was covered in hair, although when he looked closer it was a wide, long coat made of some kind of animal hide hanging stiffly off its shoulders. Long straps at the bottom dragged on the ground behind it as it made it’s loping way toward Wright’s body.

“They’re called the Tornit,” Jacob said, his voice quiet with a kind of reverence that Jon found curious. Jacob made no attempt to continue to row them out to sea. Instead he watched the creature stop in front of Wright’s body and look out at them. “My father told me stories about them that he learned from his father and so on. They are incredibly strong, able to lift large boulders and carry them into the forest to stack them to make houses.”

“That’s where we hiked to earlier?” Jon asked and Jacob nodded, his eyes never leaving the figure standing on the shoreline.

“They lived alongside my ancestors many generations ago until they began fighting each other. They were driven away to live in even more secluded areas and eventually, as the state became more populated, they disappeared entirely. I only know of the few living on this island because my father would tell me stories of when he fished here he would see them from his boat, watching him. He’d row out to the beach and leave a net of fish out for them and when he’d come back the next day the fish would be gone and a handmade spear would be left in the net. My father would bring them home and display them around the house.” A faint smile creased Jacob’s face. “No one believed his stories, of course.”

“Have you ever seen them? Before now, I mean,” Jon asked, following his gaze. The creature, the Tornit, stood stock still, staring them down.

“Actually, no. I never went fishing with my father out here but the way he told his stories with such conviction convinced me they existed.” Then Jacob shrugged. “I was also a really impressionable young kid, I probably would have believed my dad if he told me unicorns existed too.”

Jon snorted and Jacob gave him a wry smile. “So how exactly did you,” Jon stopped to search for the correct word then gave up, “for lack of a better term, summon it? How did you know what to do?”

Jacob turned to look at Jon then, his face hard, almost angry. “Last year my father came out here to fish one day and never returned.”

Jon was so caught off guard by that it took a moment for him to make the connection. Wright killed Jacob’s father.

“So you-”

“My dad always loved this house.” Jacob’s head jerked toward the structure in question, his expression pinched. “He must have found out who owned it. They must have met at some point. Dad never mentioned it but I  _ know _ . I know what happened. They met, Wright marked him, then when my dad rowed to shore to leave his offering to the Tornit Wright got him. I came out here to look for him. Found nothing but this house. Knocked on the door but no one was there. I went home to do some research, found out who owned the place. Saw he was selling it except I knew it was a ruse from the beginning. I pretended to be interested, got a chance to stay over the weekend and turned the place upside down looking for any evidence.” Jacob stopped, and Jon saw his hands clench into fists. “I found the hat my mother knitted my father years ago. He always wore it when he went fishing. There was blood on it.”

“I’m sorry, Jacob,” Jon said quietly, but the other man just shook his head violently, lost in the anger of the memory.

“I knew Wright was out there watching me. I left after I found the hat. I knew I wouldn’t be able to kill Wright on my own. I started planning, and that was when I started having the dreams.”

“So the statement you made-”

“Yeah...I lied. Sorry about that.”

Under any other circumstance Jon would have been annoyed, but instead he just asked, “Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to sound like a raving lunatic.” Jacob laughed.

Jon frowned. “But it sounded very similar to all the others.”

“When I was doing my research I found a forum where someone talked about their experience here. Yeah, I know, dumb luck on my part,” Jacob said at Jon’s look, “and someone mentioned something about the Magnus Institute and how they recorded weird stuff like that. Originally I didn’t intend on making a statement but that post gave me the lead I needed and I found Wright through it. So I decided that I’d make a statement too, in the event that I disappeared like my dad, so that someone somewhere would know what happened to me. I wasn’t sure how you guys filed your stuff so I just took elements from the person’s post and put some of my own experience with it hoping it would end up in the same spot eventually.”

While it made sense, Jon couldn’t help the annoyance he felt. “Right, well, you accomplished what you set out to do,” he said testily. “So what was this ritual you performed?”

“Yeah I lied about that too, there was no ritual.”

Jon huffed out an exasperated sigh and he could have sworn he heard Elias chuckle behind him.

“I think when my father started leaving the fish for the Tornit and they started leaving the spears in return it began to repair the rift between their people and ours. I think they had a bond, so I was hoping they would understand what I meant by leaving my father’s hat at one of their old houses.” Jacob nodded to himself. “And Wright wasn’t the only one on this island who marked their target.” Jon shuddered and not because of the cold.

“You took a hell of a risk.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Jon frowned. “Yes, well-”

“I think it’s time we made our way back,” Elias interjected. “It’s getting dark and I’d like to sleep in an actual bed tonight.”

Jacob finally took his eyes away from the creature on the beach and picked up both oars, placing them in the now eerily calm water. As he began to row them back toward the boat, Jon kept his gaze turned toward the beach and saw the Tornit reach down to grab Wright’s ankle. The creature gave them one more long look before it made its way back toward the trees, dragging Wright’s body behind it.

It didn’t take long to reach Jacob’s boat, and Jon helped Elias aboard. Jacob fired up the engines and guided them out of the cove. During the ride back Jon watched the sun slowly sink behind the horizon, his mind whirling with information. But first, he and Elias were going to check into a hotel and get themselves cleaned up. Then Jon was going to fall into bed and never have to worry about seeing that damned house again.

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> The End. For now.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
